


Natural Opposite

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anti-Neal, Discussion of Bullying, Discussion of Underage Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Sexy Dancing, Stalking, anti-Swanfire, anti-rumbelle, dancing with the stars au, discussion of abusive/controlling relationships, discussion of loss of virginity, discussion of online solicitation of a minor, discussion of teen pregnancy, note that this is M but no smut!, sexy times but no smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:58:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.





	1. Jar of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to finally share this story with you! I have thought about doing a Dancing With the Stars AU for a long time, and the CSBB was the perfect motivation to finally write it. This experience has been wonderful, and I have gotten to know so many wonderful people in this fandom because of it.  
> I want to thank hellotragic who not only was one of the fantastic mods for this event but also stepped in to beta for me temporarily when my original beta had to drop out. Even when the mods found me a new beta, she continued to be my cheerleader on this story. I also thank her for talking me down off a ledge multiple times when I almost lost my confidence. Thank you so much!  
> I also thank my artist, optimisticgirl . I mean, look at that banner! And just wait until you see what she’s created for future chapters! It was so much fun seeing her bring all of the dances I described in my story to life. It was also a blessing to get to know her and come to count her as a friend.  
> And finally, to my beta, distantrose. This story would not be what it is without her. I can honestly say this is the strongest writing I have ever produced for the fandom, and it’s largely because of Ro. Not only that, she was a huge fan of this story from the start, sending me songs she had heard that reminded her of my fic. That meant more than I can say. And she also handled my mid-event meltdown with grace and encouragement. Thanks, Ro, you’re the best beta out there!
> 
> PLEASE READ THE TAGS! This is rated M, but not for smut. Please look at the tags for trigger warnings. Most of it is discussed by characters, not portrayed, but do know what you are about to read.

Natural opposite: a movement in ballroom dancing which corresponds directly and naturally to that of your partner

** Chapter One: Jar of Hearts **

Emma Swan pushed her long blonde hair over one shoulder and reached around to hook the clasp on her bra. The man lying in bed next to her reached out his hand, his fingers lightly touching her arm.

“There’s no hurry,” he said huskily, shifting closer to ghost his lips over her bare shoulder.

She looked through her curtain of sex-mussed hair to take in his dazzling smile. It was his best feature, the first to draw her attention at the bar. Second only to the long, dark lashes that framed his amber eyes. Emma said nothing in reply, merely snatching her little red dress off the floor and shimmying into it.

“Help me with the zipper?”

He merely pouted at her, making quite the picture with his chiseled muscles across his smooth, mahogany skin. An errant dark curl fell over his forehead, another feature she had admired at the bar, though then his tight curls had been styled and tamed. He looked _really_ good post-coital, too good. Emma looked away, contorting her arms to reach the damn zipper herself.

“I’m beginning to think I’m just a one-night stand.”

Emma grabbed her shoes and purse, tossing him a flippant grin. “You catch on quick.”

Despite the tinge of hurt in his voice, she was determined to remain nonchalant. Part of her was inwardly cursing herself for not putting the breaks on the whole thing earlier. There had been warning signs: the way he kept wanting to _talk_ , the way he seemed slightly dazed by her brazenness. She had a sinking suspicion that this was a first for him. Not the sex, God no, obviously not, but she would guess he was normally a third date kind of guy.

She was proved correct when she headed for the door. He ran to intercept her, holding his hands up in a pleading gesture as he blocked her way out. Emma took a reflexive step backward.

“Come on, baby, stay. We’ll get room service.”

Emma flinched as he reached out to stroke her hair, and her heart rate doubled. “I’m no one’s baby,” she snapped as she pushed her way past him and out the door.

Her legs wobbled as she hurried down the hotel corridor, and her hands shook as she hit the elevator button. _Come on, come on!_ She tried to push away the fear that he would come after her, telling herself it was irrational. Finally, the doors opened, and Emma rushed in, not letting out a sigh of relief until she had pushed the button for her floor and the elevator started moving. She backed into the corner, her breaths coming rapidly. When the door pinged open, she knew sleep wasn’t what she needed. What she needed to do was grab her dance bag and head downstairs to the ballroom.

*********************************************************

Emma always felt more free here, the portable wood dance floor they took on the road cool beneath her bare feet. Especially in the silence of the empty ballroom, the dance and the music could allow her to feel things, express things that she normally couldn’t. Christina Perri’s “Jar of Hearts” played from the iPod hooked up to the speakers in the corner. She spun across the floor, arms reaching, torso contracting, blonde hair whipping.

As the strains of the music slowed then disappeared, she leaned against the far wall. This ballroom had been reserved as rehearsal space for the cast of _Dancing With the Stars._ Right now it was empty, and the brass chandelier overhead was dark. It took her a minute to remember what city she was in . . . Seattle, that was it. Later that day, the bus would take them to San Francisco, the last stop on the tour.

Emma’s chest heaved with emotion rather than exertion, and she pushed her messy hair out of her face. She always danced with almost desperate movements to that song. Instead of dwelling on the reasons for that, she marched over to her dance bag and grabbed a towel for her sweaty face and neck.

Emma took a swig from her water bottle, shouldered her bag, and turned to head back to her room. She let out a gasp when she saw a broad shouldered figure blocking the exit.

“Shit, David!” she yelped, her hand going to her heart. “You just took ten years off my life!”

As her twin brother stepped closer, Emma could see the worried lines on his face. “It’s three in the morning, and you weren’t in your room.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she brushed past him. “And evidently neither were you.”

“I saw you go upstairs with that guy.” He kept pace easily beside her as she strode quickly down the hallway.

She snorted a laugh. “And what were you planning on doing? Banging on every door in the place until you found me?”

David slug an arm around her and pulled her close. “Maybe,” he teased.

Emma turned to him when they reached the elevator, batting her lashes exaggeratedly and clasping her hands beneath her chin. “My Prince Charming!”

David leaned against the wall, arms crossed, face sincere. “I figured you would be here, though. Dance therapy? Did that guy -”

“No,” Emma cut him off with a raised hand as she jabbed the elevator button, “he was nice, actually.”

“Mary Margaret thought so, too,” David admitted.

Emma ignored the comment as the elevator doors slid open. David’s celebrity dance partner and now fiance had tried to make a double date out of the guy, and Emma had to resort to drastic measures before she ruined everything by getting the guy to _share things_.

“Yeah, tell Mary Margaret I’m sorry about her dress. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

They fell silent as the elevator ascended. David was looking at her with that concerned, fatherly look on his face. She stared at the numbers lighting up over the door rather than meet his gaze.

“So if he was nice, did you get his number?”

“David,” Emma groaned, casting her gaze to the ceiling.

“No, Emma,” he continued, and she knew by his tone that he was speaking his mind whether she wanted to hear it or not, “I want to know why you live like a nun in LA, but then on tour, you . . . . you . . . “

“I what?” Emma snapped. “Act my age? I’m twenty-eight with a ten year old kid, so forgive me if I let myself have a little fun for a change.”

The elevator doors opened, but David didn’t move. “Fun? So that’s why you were down there dancing your feelings?”

Emma crossed her arms protectively around herself and jerked her chin. “I believe this is your floor.”

David deflated and stepped off, glancing back at her with a concerned expression as the doors slid shut. Emma however, kept her stiff posture and stoic expression as the elevator rose to the next floor. She kept it as she walked down the quiet hall to her room. Only when the door shut behind her did she allow herself to sink to the floor. She was a ballroom dancer, after all. She knew how to stay in character.

*******************************************************

Emma tapped her fingers on her steering wheel as her car made its way slowly in the carpool line at Henry’s school. Part of her felt pretentious about putting him in a private school, especially one like this that was famous for its celebrity alums. But it was diverse and urban, it gave out loads of scholarships, and it was extremely close to the ABC backlot. Plus, getting in wasn’t easy and not because you had to drop names or money. The school was notorious for rejecting kids with impressive last names. No, it was hard to get into because you had to be crazy smart.

Emma smiled as she recognized Henry in the sea of plaid streaming across the front courtyard of the school. Yes, her kid was smart. She didn’t care if she sounded like an obnoxious, bragging mom. She was proud of him, and _that_ was why she didn’t mind writing that hefty check each month. Of course, his academic scholarship also helped.

“Hey, mom,” he told her as he hopped into her car.

“You sound happy,” she observed as she pulled out of the parking lot and into LA traffic, “did that math test go well?”

Henry instantly scowled. “I got a B minus!”

“Oh no, a B minus!” Emma teased. “How will you ever survive the horror?”

“Ha, ha, very funny. As hard as I studied, I should have gotten an A!” he retorted, crossing his arms in a huff.

“Sorry kid,” Emma told him with a shrug, “I just didn’t give you the math gene. I have to use a calculator to figure out tips.” They both laughed, and Emma gave her son a pointed look. “So what’s with the good mood? Is this about that girl Ava I saw you walking out with?”

Henry wrinkled his nose. “Ew, Mom, gross! You know what today is!”

Emma cocked her head and feigned ignorance. “Today? What’s special about today?”

Now it was Henry’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah right, like you don’t know. Tomorrow you’ll be crying when I have to get on the bus.”

He was teasing, but she did miss driving him to and from school once the show started filming. She may not cry like the day he started kindergarten, but there was an ache to her heart over it.

“Oh, that,” she chuckled, “so what flavor are we getting?”

“Rocky road, definitely.”

Emma nodded an emphatic agreement as she pulled into their favorite ice cream place. They would both get a waffle cone that was way too big, then get a pint to take home. Her siblings said she had the appetite of a fourteen year old. She was lucky she had a high metabolism and a career that burned tons of calories. She and Henry were also both lucky that her older sister Elsa lived with them. She seemed to think Emma would be lost without her, and even though it sometimes drove Emma crazy, nutritionally speaking, Elsa was probably right. Without her cooking for them on a regular basis, Emma and Henry would probably be living on grilled cheese and onion rings. Except for breakfast. Emma could make some mean scrambled eggs and pancakes. Pancakes from a box, maybe, but still.

Emma felt the last vestiges of stress from the summer tour roll off her as she licked at her waffle cone and listened to Henry tell her enthusiastically all about his day. Emma’s little unconventional family was why she danced. Dance brought her and David to Ingrid, Elsa, and Anna. It gave them a family. And now, it helped Emma provide for her son while still doing something she loved.

*************************************************************

Emma pressed the button on the side of her cell phone to lock the screen with unnecessary force, then swore under her breath in frustration as she crammed it into her silver clutch.

“ Regina still hasn’t contacted you yet?” Elsa asked sympathetically.

Emma looked up to see her sister standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She was wearing a lavender bridesmaid’s dress identical to the one Emma was wearing.

“No,” Emma replied, frustration coloring her words, “and I don’t understand the delay. I mean, every other pro knows who they’ve been paired with!”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Elsa mused with a shrug as she stepped out into the hallway of the three bedroom apartment. “I mean, we don’t really have a huge name on the roster so far.”

“You don’t think Ursula Neptune is a huge name?”

Elsa seemed to think about it as she tossed lipstick into a tiny drawstring purse. “Well, yes and no. Yes, she is a legend in R&B music. But she’s older. And older celebs have a limited fan base.”

Emma snorted. “Tell me about it.”

Last season had been Emma’s first as a pro dancer. She had spent two seasons on the show performing in the troupe, and then finally last season she was made an official pro cast member. But she and her partner, a washed up 51 year old character actor, had been voted off in the first elimination round. To say Emma had lacked chemistry with Leroy was an understatement. The tension between them could have been cut with a knife, and Emma called him Grumpy in private.

“What about David’s partner, Violet Clemens?”

Elsa shook her head as she added a tiny pack of tissues to her bag. “She’s a Disney Channel star and only fifteen. The older viewers won’t have a clue who she is.”

David, Emma’s twin brother, had found his way onto DWTS the same way his sisters had; through that _other_ dancing show, _So You Think You Can Dance_. Unlike Emma and Elsa, he had won the entire thing and was still the only ballroom dancer to do so. Two seasons later, Emma and Elsa auditioned. Their similar names and appearance combined with their deep friendship had made them viewer favorites from the beginning. When the judges chose the top ten girls, they brought Emma and Elsa in together, leading them and the viewers at home to assume the pair would be separated. Emma would never forget her pounding heart as she gripped Elsa’s hand. The head judge had told Elsa she was in the top ten first, and Emma had been shocked when her sister wept in sadness that Emma was going home. Then, of course, the judge had added with drama, “And . . . so is your sister!” Emma hadn’t known whether to punch the man or kiss him. In the end, they hadn’t lasted nearly as long as David, not even making the overall top ten in order to go on tour. But that ended up being a blessing in disguise because _Dancing with the Stars_ wanted both of them, right away.

Yet they’d only wanted Emma in the troupe at first, and she wouldn’t lie, it stung. She got the feeling from Regina, the casting director, that Emma was seen as a liability. While her backstory – almost quitting dance at eighteen when she found herself pregnant with Henry – had gotten her votes on SYTYCD, it seemed to make the studio executives at DWTS doubt her professionalism. Just thinking about it made her grit her teeth. She would show them. This season, she would prove she deserved her spot.

If she got a half-decent partner, that is.

Emma straightened, pushing hair out of her face as she looked at Elsa’s reflection in the hall mirror. Her foster sister was putting on the faux diamond stud earrings that Mary Margaret had given as gifts to her bridesmaids. Emma already had her earrings on, her blonde hair swept up in a French twist identical to Elsa’s. She plopped down on the loveseat to wrestle on her strappy heels.

“I’m still worried. What if Regina’s having a hard time scrounging up a twelfth celebrity? If she’s having to scrape the bottom of the barrel, what kind of partner will I get stuck with this time?”

Elsa smiled reassuringly as she turned from the mirror to face Emma. “Anything will be better than last season, though, right?”

Emma huffed as she stood, trying not to roll her eyes at her sister. “Easy for you to say. You hit the jackpot with your partner. A marine who won the purple heart and runs a nonprofit for veterans? Nobody will even care how he dances; his back story will get him all the votes he needs.”

Elsa shrugged, a slightly smug expression on her face. She didn’t even try to argue. “And he’s pretty handsome, too. And his service dog is adorable. I keep having to remind myself that I can’t pet him.”

Emma raised her eyebrows in surprise. “He brings the dog to rehearsals?”

“Of course. PTSD is pretty serious. His therapy dog pretty much has to go with him everywhere.” Elsa’s eyes were narrowed, and her lips were set in a firm line as she spoke.

Emma started to ask why she was so defensive on the subject, but before she could say anything else, Henry appeared in the doorway of his room with a frustrated look on his face. He tugged on the tie around his neck, which was lopsided and knotted sloppily.

“Uncle David showed me how to do this,” he groused, “but I just can’t get the hang of it.”

Emma gave her son a soft smile. He looked so handsome and grown up in his little suit. How had ten years gone by so fast?

“Here, kid, let me help you out.”

Emma got surprisingly emotional as she fixed Henry’s tie. Not just because her son was growing up, but because her twin brother was getting married today. And the fact that he had asked her son to be his best man. He could have asked Kristoff, or his best friend Sean who had danced with all of them since they were little. But instead he had asked Henry. Emma blinked rapidly lest she start crying in earnest and ruin her mascara.

“There,” Emma said, voice thick as she ran her hands over the lapels of Henry’s suit jacket, “you’re all ready.”

“Okay, Swans!” Elsa announced as she grabbed the keys. “Time to get this show on the road!”

Emma laughed as she grabbed her clutch. Ingrid, their foster mother, used to always usher them out the door with the same expression. Performing wasn’t just the family’s hobby; it was their life.

“You know, Emma,” Elsa commented as they headed down the two flights of stairs to the car, “this could be the season _you_ find love. Like David.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she climbed into the front passenger seat. “Highly unlikely considering I’m the last pro to be assigned a partner.”

“I think you’re reading way too much into the delay,” Elsa remarked as she backed the car out of its space.

Emma said nothing in reply, merely resting her chin in her hand as she gazed out the car window. Maybe her sister was right. Maybe Regina wasn’t plotting to stick her with the absolute worst partner. Yet that didn’t mean she’d find what David had with Mary Margaret. As a matter of fact, she could pretty much bet on it.

Because Emma Swan had risked her heart once, and she wasn’t about to make that mistake again.

*********************************************************

The wedding was beautiful. Not that Emma had expected anything less. Mary Margaret had been a vision as she practically floated down the aisle in a gown with a fitted bodice and a skirt that seemed to be made of the most delicate, pure white feathers. Her dark hair was curled and piled atop her head in a loose bun with tendrils falling to frame her face. She looked so different from the YouTube videos that had made her famous. In those, she had a pixie haircut and wore demure cardigans buttoned to the top button.

It was those videos that had changed Mary Margaret Blanchard’s life completely. They had started as a way for a third grade public school teacher to vent about the irritations and struggles in the American public school system. Eventually, it all led to an invitation to do _Dancing With the Stars_ where she met the pro dancer who became the love of her life.

“Uncle David is really happy, isn’t he?”

Emma gave her head a slight shake at the sound of her son’s voice. She tore her eyes away from her brother and his new wife to gaze down at her son. “Yeah, kid, I’d say he is.”

Henry looked up at Emma with a wistful expression. “I want _you_ to be that happy.”

Emma bit her lip, overcome with what a big heart this son of hers had. She cupped his face with her hands. “That’s sweet of you Henry, but I’m already happy. Because I have _you_.”

She pulled him close in a hug, brushing her lips across the top of his head. Just then she heard her cell phone buzz. She snatched up her clutch from the seat beside her and pulled out the phone.

“Mo-om,” Henry admonished, “you didn’t turn off your cell phone?”

“It was on vibrate,” Emma protested. The name on the screen made Emma’s stomach swoop: Regina. “Gotta take this, kid.”

“But the next dance is the best man and maid of honor!”

Emma held up a finger, to signal that she would only be a minute. Then she took a few steps away from the dance floor as she answered and pressed the phone to her ear. Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion as Regina spoke crisply and rapidly.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said with a shake of her head as she plugged her other ear, “it’s really loud. What did you say?”

Regina let out a long sigh which clearly conveyed that Emma was trying her patience. “I _said_ be ready at 8 am sharp tomorrow morning. I’m sending a car to take you –“

Regina’s words were swallowed up by the cheers of the crowd as David and Mary Margaret finished their first dance.

“I’m sorry,” Emma asked again, “what was that?”

“To Comic-Con!” Regina practically shouted. “You’ll be meeting your partner at Comic-Con.”

“Well, don’t drag out the suspense,” Emma snapped back, rolling her eyes, “who is he?”

Emma could hear the smugness drip from Regina’s next words. “You’ll find out when you get there. And the best part is, the cameras will capture every second of it.”


	2. Anywhere But Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave kudos and comments on chapter one! Here's where things get interesting when Emma meets her new partner. I love the pic set optimisitcgirl made for this chapter! Go over to tumblr to check it out and give her some love.

           

 “So we’re on our way to San Diego,” Emma said into the camera, forcing a stage smile onto her face. She also used a peppier voice than she normally would. She had been dancing since she was in her early teens; she knew how to act. Yet even her decade’s worth of stage experience couldn’t mask all of her nerves. She kept gnawing on her bottom lip and rubbing her palms up and down her jeans as she glanced out the tinted windows of the limousine.

             Emma looked back into the camera and chuckled. “Now I know how the celebs feel when they meet us! I have no idea what to expect.”

             “I think that’s enough for now,” the camera guy told her flatly as he lowered his equipment to his lap.

             Emma sagged against the leather seats in relief. One thing she would need to get used to if she wanted to win the mirror ball trophy was the constant presence of the cameras. They called it “reality television,” but this was Emma’s second show like this. She knew better. On _So You Think You Can Dance_ , they told Elsa she didn’t seem excited enough when she came out of the auditorium with her ticket to Vegas, so they made her do it over again. On _Dancing with the Stars_ , the pros knew to turn it on or dial up the drama whenever the cameras were present. Elsa and David had both warned her how draining it became as the season wore on. And here she was, weary on day one.

             But Emma chalked it all up to this scheme of Regina’s. Since when were both the celeb _and_ the pro in the dark? Emma had a notoriously prickly personality, and Regina knew it. This little meeting could go sideways fast. At least with Leroy, she had time to prepare herself.

             The limo pulled around to the back of the convention center and parked near a door marked “security entrance.” A young woman with a lanyard around her neck with an official SDCC tag greeted Emma and the camera crew, who had already started filming again. She guided them inside and down a hallway so dark, Emma had to push her sunglasses on top of her head. The woman stopped right at a door with a star taped to it. When Emma read it, her jaw dropped, and she turned to stare in surprise at the camera crew.

             “Have fun,” the woman said almost enviously as she scurried away.

             Emma blinked rapidly. “This, this doesn’t make sense.”

             If Regina had wanted a reaction, she was certainly getting one. The star on the door read “Cast of _Neverland_ .” It was ABC’s biggest hit show. And actors on hit shows didn’t do _Dancing With the Stars_. They just didn’t. Emma’s mind raced as she approached the door. She could discount the show’s lead right off the bat. Killian Jones, who played Captain Hook, was the hottest thing in Hollywood right now. His face graced every magazine; both the legitimate ones and the tabloids. No one that popular did a show like DWTS. It would hurt their career more than help it, or at least, that was the assumption.

She thought maybe it could be Robbie Malcolm who played the show’s villain, Peter Pan. Teen actors, even popular ones, could get away with competing on the dance show, and it even helped some of their careers. But everyone knew that he had just been cast in the next _Pirates of the Caribbean_ movie; no way did he have time to do the show. So that narrowed it down to one of the minor actors. Rufus Black, who played one of the lost boys, or maybe Christopher Rogers who played Mr. Smee. But did those minor cast members even attend Comic Con?

“Ms. Swan?” one of the crew asked tentatively.

“Right,” she said, shaking her head and turning the door knob. “Hello?” she called tentatively as the door swung open.

A raucous cheer rose up as Emma walked through the door. Of course. They knew one of their cast members was meeting his pro dancer today. Emma’s gaze traveled over the group in the green room, her eyes landing on a group of teenagers in one corner. There was Robbie Malcolm and the three actors who played the Darling children. John and Michael Darling! She had forgotten about them. Surely one of them was her partner. She took a step tentatively towards them.

“Which one of you is my partner?” Emma asked. She didn’t have to force enthusiasm this time. A partner from a hit show was a huge advantage, even if the actor was thirteen or fourteen years old.

The boys blushed and shoved one another. Robbie Malcolm clapped a hand on the younger one’s shoulder. “They wish!” he chuckled.

“I hate to disappoint you, lass, but your partner would be me.”

Emma felt the color drain from her face as she turned to face the man who owned the deep, British accent. Killian Jones sauntered towards her, looking unfairly handsome in skinny jeans and a sky blue shirt. Her first thought was that his eyes really were as blue as they looked in photographs. Then he had the audacity to wink at her. She should have known.

“I was hoping it would be you,” he said to her with a waggle of his eyebrows. And before she even knew what was happening, he took her hand, bent, and kissed it.

Before Emma remembered the cameras, she rolled her eyes and snatched her hand away. “So you’re an old-fashioned gentleman, huh?”

He smiled a dazzling smile that should have been illegal. “Oh, yes. I’m always a gentleman.”

Great. She would be spending the entire season dodging this playboy’s pick-up lines. Regina better not expect her to flirt back. The last thing Killian Jones needed was for his ego to get any bigger. Emma wasn’t one to follow celebrity gossip, but even she knew that the man had a reputation.

Emma crossed her arms and glowered at the man in front of her who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Until one of the crew cleared his throat loudly. Emma dropped her arms to her side and forced a friendlier expression on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, the young woman with the clipboard returned.

“We gotta move,” she told everyone, “your panel is starting.”

Killian turned to her with a lopsided grin and a tiny nod, “See you on stage, love.”

Emma shook her head, confused. “No, genius, we have to rehearse. Or did they not spell that out for you?”

He only grinned wider at her surliness. “They told me you were a feisty one. “ He reached out and fiddled with a lock of her hair, then leaned closer. “I know I will be in your capable hands all season, Ms. Swan. I was referring to the exclusive announcement of my dancing partner. For the fans?”

“Mr. Jones!” the woman behind them called.

He winked one last time and left her in the now empty green room, feeling completely turned upside down.

“Ms. Swan,” the woman called, “you need to come, too.”

In a daze, Emma followed the woman back down the same dark corridor. As they walked, the sound of frenzied screaming grew louder and louder. Emma and the SDCC worker caught up to the cast of _Neverland,_ the camera crew following them. They all gathered at the bottom of a set of risers. Two of Emma’s camera guys followed the clipboard lady around the curtains so they could film from in front of the stage. The hostess of the panel discussion was whipping the crowd into a fervor, asking if they were ready three or four times. Emma rolled her eyes again.

“First up is everyone’s favorite evil teenager. The most villainous, sadistic version of Peter Pan. That’s right – it’s Robbie Malcolm!”

Fans cheered loudly, several teenage girls screaming, “I love you!” at the top of their lungs. Rose Moore, who played Tinkerbell, was announced next. Then the hostess really laid it on thick.

“And now, the man who brings the house down every year. Everyone’s favorite pirate. The devilishly handsome KILLIAN JONES!!!!”

Emma watched him jog lithely up the riser steps and wave to the crowd as he found his place beside Rose. _At least he’s coordinated,_ she thought wryly. The rest of the cast was announced (Emma vaguely wondered if it hurt their feelings that they didn’t get as many rousing cheers as the first three), and then the hostess started asking questions collected on twitter. Emma had never actually watched the show, so she couldn’t really follow everything and quickly got bored. It was the story of Peter Pan turned on its head, that was all she knew. Hook was the hero while Pan was the villain. And Tinkerbell was Hook’s love interest. Emma would have to be living under a rock not to know that. “Captain Fairy” shippers went insane over the fictional couple.

“Killian, I have to ask,” a breathless fan asked from a microphone set up at the back of the ballroom, “are you and Rose a couple in real life? You have such _amazing_ chemistry.”

This was something else a person would have to live under rock not to know. The two actors were constantly posting selfies from set and hitting the night life together around LA. Emma craned her neck to see Killian Jones’s answer.

“We do have chemistry,” he said, turning to Rose and lifting her hand for a kiss just as he had done with Emma earlier, “but alas, we are just friends.”

Emma rolled her eyes _again_. The man was full of it!

“Speaking of chemistry,” the hostess segued, “I heard a rumor that you’re going to need some on the dance floor, Killian?”

The crowd obviously didn’t get it yet, although there was a wave of excited whispers.

“That’s right,” Killian said, leaning into his microphone, “I will be doing the next season of _Dancing With the Stars_.”

The audience went absolutely wild with the news, and it took the hostess a few moments to calm them down. “Wow, that’s exciting,” she enthused, “and do you know yet who your partner will be?”

“Yes, I do,” Killian replied, flashing that dazzling smile of his, “as a matter of fact, she’s right back stage.”

Emma started fidgeting with nervousness as the crowd once again went wild. She wasn’t a very big name yet on DWTS. Elsa would have been an exciting partner, or Ruby, or Ariel. But Emma? She hoped the crowd wouldn’t be too disappointed when she made her appearance.

“You guys want to meet her?” the hostess asked, practically bouncing with excitement. The crowd cheered in the affirmative. “Okay, then, let’s bring her out!”

Emma was almost blinded by the flashbulbs going off when she walked on stage. She managed to smile and wave despite the spots dancing before her eyes. The panel hostess yelled her name over the raucous cheers of the crowd. The sound relieved Emma even as it pounded in her ears. Killian rose from his chair, and Emma accepted his friendly hug with an equally friendly smile. Killian then took a step back and bowed to her.

“Shall we dance?”

If the cheers from the crowd were deafening before, they were about to burst her eardrums now. She played along, tilting her chin and smiling down at Killian flirtatiously as she accepted his hand. She may have botched their initial meeting, but Regina would eat up her performance now. Killian placed his other hand at her waist when he rose. Emma took a mental note of all the things she needed to fix about his frame, but she kept the smile plastered on her face. The crowd was chanting, “waltz! waltz! waltz!” She could only guess it had something to do with the show.

Killian turned to the audience, “She’s a pro, so I don’t need to tell her the one rule, do I?”

The audience chanted back almost in perfect unison, “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing!”

Killian began a simple box step, and Emma was pleasantly surprised at how he led her around the tight stage. He had at least learned the basics of a waltz on _Neverland_. Maybe this partnership wouldn’t be so bad after all.

But then he pulled her close, and Emma almost gave a small shout of surprise. The audience hooted. Then Killian Jones dipped her.

Smirking down at her, he said, “I’m ready to get whipped into shape, pro. Don’t be afraid to, you know,” here he winked, “ _really get into it_.”

Emma took it back. She was going to _kill_ Regina.


	3. Hips Don't Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Killian's first rehearsal

**Chapter Three: Hips Don’t Lie**

“Regina, what the hell?”

Regina swiveled her chair to face Emma, who had stormed into her office with absolutely no preamble. She folded her hands calmly on her desk and arched a finely penciled brow. “Well, good morning to you too, Ms. Swan.”

Emma just stood in front of the woman’s desk, hands on her hips, foot tapping impatiently. “Cut the crap, Regina. How dare you –“

Regina cut her off with a raised hand. “If you’re storming in here to complain about your partner, you can stop right there. Thank God we salvaged enough footage from your first meeting. You couldn’t have been more rude to the man if you tried!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “And he couldn’t have been more of a self-absorbed jerk if he tried.”

Regina leaned forward, her eyes lowering to angry slits. “Every other female pro would gladly take a lead pipe to your knee to have an A-list celebrity as a partner.”

“Save it, Regina that’s not why I’m here. He may be a pain in the ass, but I’m not going to complain.” She lowered her arms and sighed. “I know having him as a partner is a great opportunity. Although I am wondering why the hell a guy with such a successful career is doing a show like ours.”

Regina leaned back in her chair, tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the arm rests. “Well, this can’t go beyond this office, but the network will soon be announcing that season six will be  _ Neverland’s  _ last.”

Emma raised her eyebrows in surprise as she plopped down into a chair. “Seriously? But it’s their highest rated show.”

Regina shrugged. “The creators say they had an ending in mind, and they won’t risk the show’s integrity going beyond it.”

Emma nodded, thinking. She wasn’t a fan of the show, but everybody knew about last season’s finale. It was a two hour musical episode about Hook and Tinkerbell’s wedding. She had also seen TV insiders speculating that the show could only go downhill now that its most popular couple was married.

“So what’s that got to do with Killian Jones doing this show?” Emma finally asked.

“Well, you know his reputation.”

Emma snorted a laugh. “You mean the bad boy lady’s man? Yeah, from what I’ve seen it’s pretty accurate.”

“Right,” Regina nodded, “and so is his character, Captain Hook. He doesn’t want to be typecast as the lovable bad boy. He could have a great career after the show ends, or he could fade into obscurity like hundreds of others before him. He wants to use DWTS to change his image, show what else he can do. Prove to the industry that he has other sides.”

Emma scowled. “Or it could prove everyone right.”

Regina scowled right back. “Why are you here?”

Emma pressed her lips together in a thin, angry line. “The samba? Seriously?”

Regina laughed aloud as Emma’s anger mounted. Regina Mills was more involved in the show than most casting directors. Because of the nature of reality television, her title was more “cast relations” than simply finding the right celebrities to fill the roster. She supposedly ironed out issues and complaints, but she was mostly good at ensuring there was enough drama for ratings. Half the time, Emma thought she did more harm than good. On purpose.

“You’re seriously complaining about doing the samba with an attractive, successful actor?”

Emma dug her fingers into the leather seat. “Come on, Regina. No one gets the samba first. It’s the sex dance!”

Regina raised one finger. “Correction, that would be the rumba.”

Emma got to her feet, pacing and gesturing agitatedly. “Well, still, the samba is . . . is . . . intimate.” She stopped and whirled towards Regina again. “And don’t pretend. Everyone knows the standard week one dances: salsa, cha cha cha, the waltz.”

“That’s not an official policy.”

“It’s still what happens,” Emma hissed through clenched teeth, “and even a casual audience member knows it.”

“He’s sex on legs, Emma, it’s what the fans will want.”

Emma massaged her brow in frustration. “What if he has no rhythm and embarrasses himself?”

“Look at the man,” Regina insisted, “he’s got rhythm.”

“Just because a man’s attractive doesn’t mean he has rhythm! Or did you learn nothing from the underwear model fiasco?”

Regina stood quickly, Emma’s words having struck a nerve. She leaned one hand on her desk and wagged the other hand in Emma’s face. “Killian Jones was in a rock and roll band back in the UK. He has music in his blood. You’re doing the samba with him for week one. This discussion is closed.”

Regina took her seat with exaggerated calm, and Emma knew not to argue further. Yet she still couldn’t help getting in one more word before she stomped out of her office.

“We’ll see about that,” she snapped before slamming Regina’s door.

Emma knew what ran through the veins of a hot-blooded male like Killian Jones. And it wasn’t music.

**********************************************************

There was nothing more awkward than having a camera crew present when teaching choreography. Emma had felt this way even on  _ So You Think You Can Dance _ . Of course, then she had been the amateur worried about looking awkward in front of famous choreographers that she had long idolized. It just wasn’t something you wanted recorded for television. And yet, by week four, she had grown accustomed to it. Even when learning styles so unfamiliar to her like hip hop or Bollywood. Gotten used to it just in time to be sent home, that is. David and Elsa both said that the experience on SYTYCD made them more sympathetic to what the celebrities went through on  _ Dancing With the Stars _ . Emma agreed. In theory.

But then she had been thrust with Leroy. The man had no rhythm whatsoever. His hips were as awkward as a robot, doing this weird side to side jerky motion. He couldn’t remember even the simplest box step. When the time came for the live show, he completely forgot the choreography, and Emma sort of just danced around him.

All of that, however, could have been endearing if not for Leroy’s personality. He was lazy in rehearsals, taking constant breaks. He yelled at Emma when she tried to correct him. And he even had the audacity to tell Emma her choreography was “stupid” and accused her of trying to make him look bad on purpose. Emma had bit her tongue as much as possible, but Regina had to know it was a horrible match. Elsa’s calm demeanor or Ariel’s bubbly enthusiasm could have defused Leroy and possibly even made him likable. Either Regina wanted Leroy gone in the first elimination, or it was some sort of test. A test Emma failed miserably.

So as Emma headed for her first rehearsal with Killian Jones, she gave herself a pep talk. After such a horrible debut with Leroy, she really should be thankful for such an A list celebrity. And this time, she would rise to the challenge. She wouldn’t let this playboy’s flirting bring out her prickly side. She would pass this test, damn it, and prove herself to Regina and the show’s producers.

Emma was pleasantly surprised to find Killian already there when she arrived at the studio. She was also relieved to see him in sweatpants and a t-shirt; she had half expected him to show up still dressed like a model for GQ. She accepted the loose hug he gave her with a fake smile, knowing that the cameras were already rolling. But just when she thought maybe their first practice wouldn’t be so bad, he gave her an appreciative gaze and a wink.

“Looking lovely as ever, Swan.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she turned away from him. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail, and she was wearing zero makeup. Her black capri yoga pants may have been skin tight, but her oversized t-shirt hung down covering her rear. The only thing remotely sexy about the way she looked was that the t-shirt had a wide neckline that hung off one shoulder to reveal the strap of her black sports bra. The man was a good actor, she would give him that much.

“Well,” she said after dropping her dance bag to the floor, “our first dance is . . .”

He lifted both eyebrows in anticipation. Emma’s pause was partly for dramatic effect and partly to brace herself for his reaction.

“. . . the samba.”

To her surprise, his face went slightly pale and he blinked rapidly a few times. “The samba? For week one? Isn’t that one of the more difficult dances?”

Emma smiled with relief that he hadn’t made some type of innuendo. “No, actually. The samba has a basic step with a quick, quick, slow rhythm. It looks harder than it is.”

She took his hands, placing one at her waist, and grasping the other with hers. One of the lucky things about the samba was that flaws in Killian’s frame would be masked with the side by side flicks and the rolls. The next half hour was the type of dull ballroom instruction that never made it into the show’s actual footage. Killian was a surprisingly diligent student, concentrating with a furrowed brow and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. At one point, she couldn’t help laughing a little.

“What?” he asked, looking slightly offended.

Emma shook her head. “You can’t dance the whole thing looking at your feet, you know.”

He managed to laugh at himself, glancing down and away to the side. Emma couldn’t help noting how long his lashes were; they practically brushed the tops of his cheeks. He then lifted his gaze to meet hers and rolled his shoulders back.

“This better?”

“Much.”

Killian leaned forward and fake whispered in her ear, loud enough for the cameras to catch. “If you wanted to gaze into my eyes, all you had to do was ask.”

Okay, so maybe  _ some  _ of this footage would make it to air.

*********************************************************

“Now that you’ve gotten the basic samba footwork down, we need to work on the harder moves.”

Killian took a swig from his water bottle and gave her another wary expression. “Harder?”

“Well, yeah, we can’t just do the quick, quick, slow thing around and around in circles for a minute and a half. There’s the performance factor, too.”

Emma took him by the hand and pulled him close. She turned so her back was to his chest, then she pulled his left arm around her waist.

“Well, Swan, don’t stand on ceremony,” Killian said to her huskily, bending down so his breath ghosted across her neck.

Emma caught his gaze in the reflection of the mirror and rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to show you a body roll, genius.”

Her tone was harsher than it probably should have been, but Killian just laughed. She took his right hand in hers and first taught him how to do the samba steps backwards. He stumbled a few times, but after several minutes, he picked it up.

“Now,” Emma said, “here’s the tricky part. I’m going to lean back into you. You’ll lean with me, and will take that movement in a smooth circle as we walk backwards.”

Killian swallowed nervously, “That, uh, sounds a little like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time.”

Emma laughed at the comparison, “Yeah, a little, so we’ll take it slow.”

She leaned back as she and Killian both stepped backwards. But when Emma rolled her body to the side, Killian suddenly got confused about where his feet were supposed to be. His right foot tangled with hers, and suddenly, they were both going down. He reached out and grabbed her around the waist as they fell, pulling Emma on top of him. He let out a loud breath as he hit the floor. Emma reached out with her hands and pushed herself up halfway. She shook her head and found herself gazing down at a grinning Killian.

“Sorry, love, I can be a tad clumsy.”

Emma was suddenly aware of his hands still at her waist, of their bodies’ still pressed against each other, and of the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Suddenly, it felt as if she couldn’t breathe, and she scrambled hurriedly off him.

“I need five minutes,” she muttered as she hurriedly left the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Emma’s heart was pounding as she leaned forward against the wall in the hallway. She glanced nervously behind her and was relieved that the cameras hadn’t followed her. She took deep breaths through her nose, then slowly exhaled through her mouth. She remembered a pair of brown eyes that also crinkled at the corners.  _ What can a klutz like me do to get a dance lesson? _ Emma bit her lip and shook her head. No, she wasn’t letting her mind go there. She squared her shoulders and turned back towards the studio.

She also wasn’t going to be taken in by seemingly nervous smiles and flirting. Not again.


	4. Light it Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I had the most fun with this part - making up the dances and the costumes and songs that would go with them. My artist optimisticgirl did a great job capturing Emma and Killian's first dance on the show with her art for this chapter. Go to her tumblr to check it out!

****

**Chapter Four: Light it Up**

            Emma felt that familiar pre-performance fluttering in her stomach. She bounced on the balls of her feet and chewed on her bottom lip; habits that Ingrid had always teased her about. The lights of the studio were shining hotly down on the dance floor, and the crowd was pumped.

            “So,” Killian said at her elbow, “is it normal for me to feel like I’m about to throw up?”

            He gave her that usual charming smile, but he also looked slightly pale under his heavy makeup. The tips of his ears had also turned red. The past few weeks teaching him the choreography had been difficult, but not in the way Emma had expected. She thought it would be filled with Killian’s constant flirting and her barely contained aggression. Instead, after that awkward fall, things had been rather cold and professional. If Emma were completely honest with herself, she would admit to throwing up a wall. She didn’t care if Regina hit the roof; she had decided to be a strictly professional dance teacher and nothing more. Ratings and votes be damned. Even more surprising was that Killian seemed to take her lead, pulling back from his attempts at banter and flirting.

            She looked over at him now and attempted to give him an encouraging smile. “I’ve been doing this since I was a kid, and I still get nervous. But surely you’ve felt the same before as an actor.”

            Killian shuffled his feet then scratched behind his ear; a gesture she had already learned was a nervous tic. “I confess, nerves are a normal part of my profession, but this . . . this is quite different.”

            She took a deep breath, then reached over to take his hand. They needed to play up their partnership for the audience soon anyway, they may as well start now. “You know the choreography perfectly. Now it’s time to just enjoy the performance.”

            He glanced at their joined hands with slight surprise, then smiled tentatively. “Thank you, Swan.” Then he cocked an eyebrow at her. “And I am blessed with the most beautiful partner. Have I told you how incredibly sexy you look?”

            Emma pulled her hand away, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. “You know, every time I think you’re being genuine, you go and say things like that.”

            His eyes went suddenly wide as he put a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Swan. I’m being one hundred percent sincere, I mean, look at you.”

            Emma rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly in the chest. The costuming department had stuck with his usual look, putting him in a filmy red dress shirt, open half way down his chest. His pants were simple black dress pants. Emma was in a short sequined number with a red pattern of flames shooting up across the nude fabric covering her chest and arms. They were dancing to “Light it Up” by Major Lazer.

            Suddenly a strong hand clapped onto both Emma and Killian’s shoulders. Emma turned, her face brightening to see her twin brother standing there.

            “Just wanted to wish my little sister luck,” David teased.

            Emma shook her head as she gave him a side hug, “Only little by three minutes.”

            Killian reached out to shake David’s hand. “Reminds me of my older brother Liam. Always calling me little brother, even now.”

            “Good luck to you too, Killian. I like what I saw of you two in dress rehearsal. I’m glad my sister finally got a great partner.”

            Emma could tell that Killian appreciated the compliment by the way his blue eyes widened a fraction and lit up. “That’s encouraging praise indeed! Any tips I need to know? I must confess, I’ve never watched the show.”

            “Well,’ David told him, pointing to three people chatting at the other end of the backstage area, “you have to be prepared for the judges remarks. Votes matter more, of course, but the viewers can be swayed by what they say, and no one wants a low judges’ score. Tiana is a former dancer with the New York City ballet. She’s more on our side because she knows how hard our job is. She’s big on the performance factor. Then there’s Blue.”

            “You mean Marilyn Blue?”

            David and Emma both snorted at the same time.

            “No,” David corrected, “it’s just Blue. Trust me. _Maybe_ Madame Blue. She’s the most notoriously famous teacher and judge in ballroom dancing. She’s old fashioned, picky, and she _hates_ gimmicks and props. Fortunately, the audience a lot of times loves the very things she hates. But getting a high score from her is extremely difficult.”

            “And what about that last guy. He looks like he’d be one of Hook’s crew on my show.”

            “Yeah,” David agreed, “or a member of an 80s hair band. Name’s Edward Teach. He’s choreographed some of the most famous music videos from the late 80s until the early 2000s, and like any choreographer, he’s arrogant and rude.”

            Emma shook her head, “Half the time he seems bored out of his mind.”

            “Or possibly stoned,” David put in, to which Emma nodded. “He also loves the women, hates the men.”

            “So . . . “ Killian said nervously, “no pressure.”

            David just slapped him on the back and then walked back over to his own partner, who looked as if she may burst into tears at any moment. Killian watched the fifteen year old for a moment, and then said, “Well, if that little lass can do it, so can I. Right?”

            Emma took his hand again. “Right.”

            Just then, the studio audience burst into roaring applause as the group number they had all shot earlier in the week played on the jumbotron above the stage. It had been shot on a Disney backlot and choreographed to the song “Dancing in the Streets.” The pro dancers shimmied their way through a fake “town,” picking up celebrity partners along the way. Killian was the last celebrity “revealed.” He and Emma “met” in a bookstore where she found him reading a copy of JM Barrie’s _Peter Pan_. She was surprised how much it looked like an actual meet-cute: Emma spinning and bumping into Killian, causing him to drop his book in surprise. Hopefully that kind of chemistry would come across in their live dance as well.

            As expected, Killian’s reveal caused ear-splitting screams from the studio audience, despite the fact that their partnership had been revealed on YouTube a month ago. Then the couples walked out on stage one at a time as the host and hostess, Marco Carpenter and Ashley Herman, announced them. Once again, Emma and Killian were announced last, and they would be the last to dance as well. They both tried to relax in the cast balcony and even cheer on the rest of the cast, but it all seemed to go by in a sort of haze. She remembered David and his partner, the Disney channel star, being absolutely adorable in a sweet waltz. She cheered like crazy for Elsa, who practically lit up the dance floor with her wounded Marine, Graham, in a cha cha cha.

            “They’ve got really good chemistry,” Killian whispered in her ear, and Emma had to agree.

            But there were awkward moments, too. Merlin’s dance partner was Cora Heart, the matriarch of a reality show family. She was not only awkward but way too handsy with Merlin. Ariel’s partner Archie was a sweet former child star now all grown up, but he forgot half his choreography. If Emma had to pick the two celebrities going home in the first elimination, it would be them.

            Then, finally, it was her turn to dance the samba with Killian. They took their place on the dance floor while the jumbotron behind them showed a video package of their first meeting and their rehearsals. The editing team did a great job, making it seem as if Emma and Killian had shared many hugs and smiles. They even edited Killian’s flirting to make it seem like Emma was rolling her eyes or smacking his chest in a playful manner instead of an irritated way, eliciting laughs from the audience. Of course, they ended with their fall at their first practice, editing out Emma’s abrupt departure. A blush stained Emma’s cheeks as the audience whistled and hooted.

            Behind her, Killian placed his hands gently on her shoulders, “You okay, love?”

            Emma just nodded, suppressing the urge to shrug him off. “Sure. Just ready to do this, you know?”

            Killian gave her shoulders a squeeze in reply.

            “And now,” the announcer intoned, “dancing the samba with his partner Emma, Killian Jones.”

            The music started, and just as it always did, it sent Emma to another mental plane. She poured herself into the dance, channeling her joy raising Henry, her freedom when she danced, her love for David and Elsa, her gratitude for everything Ingrid had done for all of them. Every time she danced, she drew on all of it.

            The thing was, that last season with Leroy, that hadn’t worked. How could she lose herself in the music and in her own soul when she was trying to guide an awkward novice through a routine he couldn’t remember? But with Killian, it wasn’t like that. He seemed to be lost in the music as much as she was, the choreography coming as second nature. She already knew he was a great actor, so she wasn’t surprised at the intense looks he gave her as he ran his hand down her side or the way he buried his face in the crook of her neck when he yanked her close after dipping her. When they finished, the crowd went wild, and in her relief and enthusiasm, Emma threw her arms around his neck and gave him a tight hug. They then turned to the judges, grinning broadly, their arms still around one another.

            Emma had been following _Dancing With the Stars_ for years, even before auditioning for _So You Think You Can Dance_. She knew exactly what to expect from each judge, especially the first week. So she wasn’t surprised by Tiana’s gushing praise for their chemistry and level of performance. Neither was she shocked when Tiana said they needed to find a deeper connection; she pretty much always said that in the early weeks. Also as expected, Blue was happy with the straight forward samba choreography, then gave a laundry list of things Killian needed to work on. Things Emma already knew; his incorrect frame, how he didn’t bend his knees quite low enough or reach quite far enough with his arms, nothing Emma wasn’t planning on tackling anyway. Teach was always the wild card, but it still didn’t shock Emma when he shrugged and noncommittally said that it was “a decent performance for the first week.” She didn’t let herself get excited yet, though. The judges were always nicest on the first night. They had even managed to find positive comments for Leroy last season.

But when they got sevens from all three judges, Emma’s heart soared with elation; it was  an incredibly high score for week one. As a matter of fact, it was the highest score of the night, one point higher than Elsa and Graham and two points higher than David and Violet. Emma couldn’t believe it; she had gone from the lowest scoring pro last season to winning the night. She tried to temper her emotions, after all, they had a long way to go, but she squealed in delight. Killian grabbed her in a side hug, lifting her an inch off the ground, and Emma threw her arms around his neck. The mirror ball trophy seemed more than a dream after the way they just danced.

            Since Emma and Killian danced last, there wasn’t enough time for a post score interview with Ashley. Emma was relieved, worried that the hostess would bring up that embarrassing tumble in rehearsals. Once the show wrapped, the pros huddled together, encouraging the ones who got low scores and praising the ones who did well. Meanwhile, Killian was swept along with the other celebrities, who were all gushing about his high scoring dance.

            Emma was surprised when she stepped out of her trailer to find Killian waiting for her. Emma pushed her hair, still stiff with hairspray, off her face and tucked it behind her ears. She bit her lip, feeling a bit self-conscious for some reason about her pink forehead and cheeks, freshly scrubbed of all stage makeup. Killian grinned up at her as she descended the trailer steps. When she reached the bottom, she swallowed awkwardly, fiddling with the zipper of her hoodie. Why was she suddenly feeling awkward around him? All of the hand-holding and hugging had only been for the cameras. And the nuzzling, and the caressing . . . . Ugh, what was wrong with her? She had done all of those things with plenty of partners over the years. On SYTYCD, she had even kissed a partner once as part of a routine. That dance had even gotten over a million views on YouTube, and she still didn’t feel nervous around that guy.

            “So, Swan,” Killian said, “have I proven myself?”

            Emma masked her nervousness with a half smile as she cocked her head to study him. “I don’t know, Jones. Maybe this week’s choreography was me going easy on you.”

            Killian’s eyebrows arched slightly. “Oh really?” He leaned into her personal space. “And are you flirting with me?”

    His close proximity had Emma swallowing nervously as she wet her lips. She thought back to their dance earlier and Killian’s intense gaze, his hands grasping her waist and ghosting down her thigh. _Get a grip, Emma!_

            She rolled her eyes. “You wish.” She brushed past him and headed for the parking lot. She glanced over her shoulder and called back to him, “8 am sharp. We’ll see how cocky you are then.”


	5. Skyfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone make sure to check out the art for this story by @optimisticgirl on tumblr, she is phenomenal! And much love to my beta @distantrose once again. Without her help this story would be nowhere near as good. Also be sure to check out all the fics in the Big Bang - they are all fantastic!

Part of being a cast member of  _ Dancing With the Stars  _ was keeping up with social media. So the first thing Emma did when she woke up the morning after the first live show was pull up all her accounts: Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. She and Killian had taken a selfie as soon as they left the dance floor with the caption: “Straight 7s! What a way to start!” Fan reaction wasn’t what she had expected, to say the least. She almost choked on her cereal scrolling through all the comments and re-tweets.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Henry asked, his spoon paused halfway to his mouth.

Emma coughed and patted her chest as she took a sip of orange juice. “Yeah kid, just a little . . . surprised by some stuff online, that’s all.”

“What is it?” Elsa asked as she joined them at the kitchen table.

Emma glanced at Henry then slid her phone across the table to Elsa. Her sister’s eyebrows rose as she read the first few comments. “Well,” she finally said, “that’s . . . intense.”

“Captain Fairy shippers giving you grief, mom?” Henry asked casually.

Emma blinked her eyes at her ten year old. “You know what shipping is?”

“Of course,” he mumbled as he shoveled more cereal into his mouth, “who doesn’t?”

Emma narrowed her eyes as she folded her arms on the table. “You better not have set up any social media accounts. You know you’re not old enough for that.” She paused. “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Henry swallowed before hurriedly clarifying. “Mom, no, I swear. But tons of girls at school are into that stuff. Tons of them have Captain Hook t-shirts and notebooks and bookbags . . .”

Emma waved her hand at him. “Okay, I get it.”

Henry didn’t slow down in the least. “No offense, Mom, but no one at school has ever cared that much about you being a dancer. But now that Killian Jones is your partner, everyone’s freaking out, asking if I’ve met him. Can I, mom? Meet him?”

Emma massaged her brow wearily, “Henry –“

Henry snapped his mouth shut, then muttered, “I think I’ll go brush my teeth.” He put his dirty bowl and spoon in the sink before heading to the bathroom. Emma didn’t realize he had paused to glance over her shoulder until it was too late. “Oh so its Killer Rose shippers who hate you. That makes sense.”

Emma arched a brow at Henry as she turned to face him. “Killer Rose? Where do you hear this stuff?”

“Ummm . . .” Henry muttered as he started walking backwards towards the bathroom, “you know, kids at school.” Then he quickly ducked inside and shut the door.

“Well, Killer Rose is a fitting name,” Emma muttered as she glared at her phone. “Listen to this one,  _ If that bitch comes between my ship, I will hunt her down and make her wish she’d never been born.  _ And this one,  _ Did you see the way that whore literally threw herself at Killian? If Rose doesn’t kill her, I will.” _

“Well, at least Rose defended you,” Elsa said, looking at her own phone. “Did you read this tweet from her?  _ So excited my pal @killianjones got the best partner. Love @emmaswan to pieces. Make sure to vote! _ ”

“Well, that’s . . . sweet. And a complete lie. She doesn’t know me at all.”

“But still sweet,” Elsa emphasized as she stood and carried her own bowl and spoon to the sink, “and think about it, she said a lot in that one tweet. She called Killian her  _ pal _ and told all the fans to vote. It’s a very diplomatic way to say,  _ hey, I’m just friends with the guy, so lay off his partner _ .”

Emma sighed because she knew Elsa was right. She was a professional who could handle a little fan drama. So she squared her shoulders and went to change into her dance clothes. She had a week to teach Killian a new dance. That was all she had the time or energy to focus on.

******************************************************

Emma’ resolve to be professional crumbled when she arrived at the rehearsal studio to find double the security. There was a line of cars pulling into the lot as they checked everyone’s ID at the gate; even the ones who had parking passes. Then Emma walked into the lobby to find a temporary metal detector set up. Outside her and Killian’s rehearsal studio, two burly bodyguards stood at attention. By then, her anger and frustration had reached the boiling point.

Emma shoved the door open and marched in, pulling her cell phone from the pocket of her hoodie like it was a gun in a holster.

“What the hell is this?” she demanded as she waved her phone in Killian’s face.

He leaned back warily. “I understand your feelings, Emma, believe me. I am  _ so  _ sorry about all of this.” He gestured towards the doorway, “But Regina was just here, and they are taking all of the . . . um . . . threats seriously.”

“Ya think?” Emma snapped. She swiped at her phone with a jabbing finger, “Because this girl wants to  _ cut off all my dirty, cheating fingers _ and this one says she’s coming to a taping. With a  _ gun _ ! And why the hell do they all call themselves  _ hookers _ ?”

“Oh,” Killian said, clearing his throat nervously and scratching behind his ear, “that’s um . . . what my fans call themselves. You know, as in Captain  _ Hook _ ?”

Emma crossed her arms. “Cute. And they do know he’s a  _ fictional  _ character in a  _ fictional  _ relationship. Oh wait, I guess not. Because they’re freakin’  _ crazy _ !”

Killian lifted both hands in a placating fashion. “Listen, most of the fans I’ve met are really nice. Social media just tends to bring out . . . the more vocal and colorful variety. And people say things online they would never say in real life. Surely you know that.”

Emma didn’t relax her irritated posture. “I’ve never gotten death threats before, so excuse me if I’m a little on edge.”

He nodded, his eyes glistening with an intensity that looked like genuine concern. He moved a step closer, raised his hands as if to place them on her shoulders, then seemed to change his mind and dropped them instead. “I’m truly, truly sorry, Swan.”

Emma cocked her head. “And all these fans worried I’m going to break up you and Rose. Are you worried about that?”

“I’m not dating Rose!” he cried in frustration.

“You two seem to flirt an awful lot.”

Killian ran a hand wearily down his face. “At cons, yes. The network encourages us to. They say the fans eat it up. And what can I say? Rose and I are great actors.”

“What about all the on-set selfies? The nights out?”

“Those selfies are genuine. We really are friends, and we have to spend a  _ lot  _ of time together on set. And yes, we hang out some, but honestly? Half the time I’m out with the whole cast; we’re all really close. But paparazzi aren’t interested in a pic of that, so they zoom in and get what they want of me and Rose. I hang out with Sara all the time too, but you never see that in the tabloids.”

“Sara . . . she plays Tiger Lily, right?”

“Yes,” Killian said with an exasperated sigh, “and she’s also  _ just a friend _ .”

Emma’s brows rose and she started scrolling quickly through her twitter feed. “Okay, so that explains this post about Tiger Hook.”

Killian laughed, looking over Emma’s shoulder, “People still ship that?”

Emma gave him a surprised look, and he blushed and scratched behind his ear again. “Look,” he told her, “I didn’t even know what shipping  _ was  _ before I was cast as Hook. This entire fandom thing – the ‘hookers,’ all of it – took me time to get used to. But eventually I did, and so will you.”

Emma tilted her head back with a groan as she tossed her phone into her dance bag. “This must be another reason actual celebrities never do this show.”

“What about Zendaya? She did this show, and look at her now. Starring in an Oscar nominated musical.”

“She was a Disney channel kid, they can get away with it. You are definitely  _ not _ .”

Killian stepped closer, swiping his tongue along his lips, “Yes, I am definitely not a boy.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Do you turn everything into an innuendo?”

He just chuckled as he took a step back. “So, Swan, what’s our next dance? I must confess, I’m a bit nervous only having a week this time to pull it all together.”

“Right,” Emma said, glad to be back to business, “this week is guilty pleasures, and the producers told me yours is . . .,” Emma snatched up her phone again and pulled up her email, “James Bond.” She looked up at Killian and rolled her eyes. “Figures.”

“You know,” Killian teased, tapping his finger on his lips, “if you keep rolling your eyes at me, you’re going to give yourself a migraine.”

Emma smacked him on the chest as she marched into the middle of the room. She turned to face the mirror. Without even glancing at him, she said to her own reflection, “Then stop irritating me.”

He joined her on the dance floor with his usual swagger. “And what irritates you, love, my charm or the fact that I’m devastatingly handsome?”

Emma kept her eyes fixed on the mirror. She almost rolled them again, but caught herself in time.

“Maybe it’s just that you talk too much.”

‘Well, these first four weeks you gave me the silent treatment,” he countered, “You know, most men would find that off-putting, but I love a challenge.”

She turned to face him, and he smiled smugly at her, his tongue tucked into his cheek. Was he aware how much he used the damn thing? Who was she kidding? Of course he knew!

“Shut up, Jones, and pay attention. I have to teach you an Argentine tango in one freakin’ week.”

He nodded. “I’m all yours, Swan.”

She could see the mischievous spark in his eyes, but she chose to ignore it. “You’d better concentrate because I’m not taking my eyes off you for a second.”

He leaned forward, those damn eyebrows of his arching, “I would despair if you did.” Then he winked.

Emma yanked his arms up. “Then let’s fix that ugly frame of yours.”

“Ugly?”

It was Emma’s turn to smirk.

*********************************************************

Here they were again, in the middle of the dance floor in front of the studio audience. Emma’s death threats from belligerent fans had made the news, and extra security guards were on duty; in the audience, backstage, outside in the parking lot and stationed near the trailers. Yet despite all that, Emma’s concentration was solely on the tango.

On the jumbotron behind them, Killian was explaining his guilty pleasure for James Bond movies. An edited clip of Emma rolling her eyes and saying  _ figures _ played after that, and the audience chuckled. Their footage of rehearsals focused on Emma working on Killian’s frame, even making him wear the dreaded metal training device. But mostly the footage showed them constantly bantering and teasing each other. And Killian was right, she  _ did  _ roll her eyes at him a lot. Emma actually winced a little at some of her jabs. She didn’t realize how harsh she could be sometimes. Yet Killian kept his charming grin and light laugh through all of it.

He made her look like a complete bitch.

Emma let out a long, cleansing breath as the announcer intoned, “And now, dancing the Argentine tango, Killian Jones and his partner Emma.”

“Skyfall” by Adele began to play, and as soon as the music filled the room, Emma was transported to another place. She was a Bond girl in her long, sleek black dress slit all the way up her leg, her blonde hair in a smooth side bun. Killian was a dashing spy in his black tux, and they danced in perfect character. They finished with Killian grasping her by the thigh, their foreheads pressed together, Emma’s hand splayed against his left cheek. They stayed in character for a beat, then Killian’s face broke into a wide grin. To her surprise, he scooped her up in a hug.

“That was so fun!” he told her when he set her back down.

Emma was actually a little rattled, as if she couldn’t quite get out of the character she was playing. She shook her head and managed a little laugh as they turned to the judges.

Edward Teach was actually leaning forward slightly in his chair, mouth slightly agape. “Was he seducing you, or was it the other way around?” The audience hooted, laughed, and cheered. “I couldn’t tell! Exactly what a tango should be; hot, hot, hot. Great job!”

“Oh, my, Gooood!” Tiana cheered, smacking her hands on the table, “I thought you two set fire to the dance floor last week, but this week? It melted into lava!!!” She leaned back dramatically as if fanning herself. “Just. Shut. Up. I’m dead.”

The audience laughed at Tiana as she waved for Blue to take over. Blue, as she often was, was completely unreadable. She folded her hands in front of her and regarded them cooly. “Your frame improved, so bravo for that. A solid, proper tango, which I like to see. The only thing I would tell you Killian, is watch your knees. They still seem a little stiff. But it’s only week two, so overall, great job.”

They had danced in the middle of the pack this time, so they headed upstairs for the interview with Ashley.

“Once again, great reaction from the judges,” she began, “Killian, I didn’t get to talk to you last week. How are you enjoying this experience so far?”

“Well, first I’ve got to say,” he panted out, “that dance was a dream come true. Huge James Bond fan.”

Ashley laughed. “Well, you certainly got into it. Both of you. Speaking of which, how have you both handled the social media comments since last week?”

“Well,” Killian began, putting an arm around Emma, “I first want to say that I have the best partner. She has been patient, and tough, and fun. Everything I could have asked for. And I just ask all my fans to show her respect and love. She puts so much into her dancing, into the choreography, everything. If my fans are as fantastic as I believe them to be, I think they’ll come to see how great she is. I don’t mean to upset anyone, but Emma and I make quite the team.”

Emma was speechless as he pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. For one, she couldn’t decide if his casual affections and impassioned speech were the wisest choices. Since his fans saw her as a threat to their beloved ship. But a more disturbing thought plagued her, even as she put on a big show of cheering at their two 8s and one 7 from Blue.

Killian Jones was a damn good actor.


	6. Perfect Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would not be what it is without the help of my beta @distantrose, who helped tremendously in ironing out Killian's back story with me. You are the best, Ro! And the scene on the Neverland set had me stuck until @wellhellotragic lent me a hand when she was my temporary beta. Seriously, without the two of them, this chapter would be a complete mess!
> 
> And look how my artist, @optomisticgirl, captured the dances from both chapters five and six! Make sure to go to her tumblr and give her some love!

                                                                                                   

                                                                   

#  **Chapter Six: Perfect Strangers**

            Emma took several cleansing breaths as the jumbotron screen once again played footage of her rehearsals with Killian. The past week had been surprisingly calm for the two of them. Killian had quite the way with his fans because the tide had seemingly begun to turn for Emma on social media. She wouldn’t say fans loved her, but they at least now didn’t tweet about killing her. And many of Killian’s “hookers” had taken to the internet to combat the trolls, telling them to “trust their Captain.” Emma still thought it was all a little too intense.

            Security hadn’t lessened, but Emma had also gotten used to it. And practice had gone relatively smoothly. She and Killian were still like two kids on the playground kicking each other, but Emma secretly kind of liked it. Of course, the salsa had proven to be the hardest dance so far for Killian to learn. For some reason, his hips just couldn’t seem to shake the way they were supposed to. He kept making jokes about being a stiff Brit. One such moment was playing on the screen above her head right now, and Emma watched the video image of herself make joke comparing him to Prince Charles. David had commented that the audience seemed to find her and Killian funny, and if the laughter she was hearing right now was any indication, her brother was right.

            Emma was rather proud of her choreography for this routine. It was a bit risky because it involved a special set, and props, and members of the troupe. Blue would be hard to win over, that was for sure. But Emma had to come up with a way to mask Killian’s weaknesses with this dance while also boosting his confidence. It was “favorite songs” week, and Killian had chosen one called “Perfect Stranger” recorded by his former band back home. The premise of the routine was that Killian was on stage with his guitar, and Emma and the troupe were fans in the crowd below. Emma catches Killian’s eye, and he abandons the performance to dance with her.

            Even though it was only week three, it felt odd to be on the dance floor with Ariel and the rest of the girls in the troupe instead of at Killian’s side. Emma caught his eye where he stood on stage with a guitar in his hands, clad in faux leather pants and a short leather motorcycle jacket. He grinned at her and waved. She rolled her eyes.

            Ariel nudged her in the ribs, “I’m almost glad Archie got sent home last week. This is a cool routine.”

            Emma gave her a wobbly smile. “Thanks. I hope so.” She looked up at Killian again, who was laughing with Merlin. His partner Cora had also been voted off, to no one’s surprise.

            “He’s nicer than I would have expected,” Ariel commented.

            “Who, Archie?”

            Ariel laughed. “No. I mean, yes, of course Archie was nice. But I’m talking about Killian Jones.”

            “Oh,” Emma said, blushing suddenly for some strange reason, “yeah, I guess so.”

            Ariel couldn’t say anything else because the video package was over and the announcer was saying, “And now, dancing the salsa with his partner Emma: Killian Jones.”

            The music started. Emma couldn’t explain it, but when she danced, the world disappeared. She lost the pain, she let go, she _smiled_. In short, she became a completely different person. Right now she was a giggly, flirty, almost silly girl crushing on a rock star. And boy, did Killian Jones embody that rock star sex appeal. He fed off her energy to the point that Emma could get lost, even in such a flighty character. The fringe of her light pink salsa dress swished against her hips as they swayed, and her blonde hair, up in a high ponytail, whipped as Killian spun and dipped her. Being the pro that she was, she saw the flaws in his technique, but he performed the hell out of the routine. When the song ended, she pumped both fists and then gave him high fives with both hands. She laced their fingers together, concerned at the tentative expression on his face.

            “Come on, smile! That was the best you’ve danced it!” she encouraged him. But when she turned and faced the judges, she had to admit that none of their faces reflected her enthusiasm.

            Tiana, who had thus far been their biggest fan, started, and Emma felt her heart sink as she spoke. “Listen. You performed that full out, and you know I love you right?”

            Killian nodded, his eyes darting to Emma’s.

            “But honey, listen to me. Dance is all about revealing your heart and soul to the audience. And while that was fun, I’m still asking myself, who is Killian Jones? These three weeks, we’ve seen this sexy pirate rock star. But that’s Captain Hook, not you. Next week, I want to see you be vulnerable. Give us a different side to you.”

            Killian took her advice bravely, and Tiana gave him the heart sign with her hands as Blue cleared her throat to speak.

            “What was this? I thought it was supposed to be a salsa! But you’ve got a guitar, and there’s all these girls, and I didn’t get it. I just want to see a proper salsa! And what salsa I did see was a hot mess. Your hips were stiff, you couldn’t get the syncopated rhythm. It just wasn’t good. I’m sorry.”

            The audience booed, of course, and Killian raised his hand to signal them to stop. Emma could see it written all over his face; he was disappointed in himself.

            Edward Teach didn’t even sit up fully in his chair, his feet propped up on the table in front of him. “You think you’re popularity and pretty boy face will win this competition. It won’t. Learn to dance. And that,” Edward made silly motions with his hands and did a mock sexy face, “wasn’t dancing. I don’t care how many girls fawn over you.”

            “Wow, harsh words from the judges,” Marco commented, “head on up to Ashley to get your scores.”

            Ashley was frowning in sympathy when they came up the stairs, and she reached out and patted Killian’s arm. “I don’t know what they were talking about! I loved it, it was so fun!” Then she turned to the camera. “Let’s get your scores.”

            Emma’s heart sank at the results: A seven from Tiana and sixes from Blue and Teach. She wrapped both arms around Killian and squeezed as he hung his head.

            “Emma,” Ashley said, “did you agree with the judges critiques?”

            Emma straightened, her face set in a determined scowl, “No, actually, I don’t. Killian works _so_ hard, week after week, and he performed the _hell_ out of that routine. Do we have things to improve upon? Of course, but so does everyone else.” She turned to Killian, who was blinking at her in surprise. “I am _so_ proud of the way he danced that. And if they want to see a different side of him next week, then that’s what we’ll give them.”

            Ashley turned to the camera with a grin, “Well, those seem like fighting words.”

            They were. After three weeks of working together, Emma knew one thing with absolute certainty. She could win the mirror ball with Killian, and she would do whatever it took to get there.

                         *****************************************************

            Watching television wasn’t something Emma had a lot of time for, especially not binge-watching entire series. Even when Emma had some time off, she had too much energy to just veg out on the couch. But today, Emma was making an exception.

            Killian had an intense day of shooting on green screen today for _Neverland_. Something involving stunts, special effects, and lots of water. Emma didn’t really get it; all she knew was that Killian would be on set until late into the night with no down time. She could tell from his voice on the phone that missing a day of rehearsals worried him after yesterday’s low scores.

            But Emma saw it as an opportunity to try and find a connection point with her partner. And she knew she had to start by actually watching his show, something Regina had been bugging her to do since day one. It especially made sense now, since their dance this week would be about Killian earning the role of Captain Hook for “most memorable year” week.

            So after she dropped Henry off at school, Emma returned home, grabbed a blanket and the remote, and pulled up _Neverland_ on Netflix. The concept of the show sounded so silly, that Emma wasn’t expecting to like it. However, she found herself getting sucked in from the very first episode. Pan was eerie, and the Lost Boys with their clubs and their poisoned arrows had Emma creeped out. She clutched her blanket to her chest as they surrounded Wendy in one scene, then almost cheered out loud when Captain Hook came barreling on screen to her rescue. The early premise was simple: Wendy Darling travels to Neverland determined to rescue her kidnapped brothers and finds an unlikely team of heroes to help her in Hook, Tinkerbell, and Tiger Lily.

            Things got crazier as the seasons wore on with curses cast, memories wiped with dark potions, and portal-jumping to other realms. But Emma had to admit, she was invested. Especially in the romance between Hook and Tink. She squealed like a silly teenager over their first kiss, and yelled at the TV when Hook drank a sleeping potion in order to save Tink from Pan’s latest nefarious plan.

            Emma was halfway through season three, buried on the couch beneath a pile of blankets, when Elsa came in from rehearsals. She was distracted, giggling in a way Emma had never heard as she read something on her cell phone.

            Emma paused the TV. “How was your rehearsal?”

            Elsa let out an ear-splitting scream as she jumped three feet in the air. “What the hell, Emma!? What are you even doing here in the middle of the day?”

            Emma scowled at her sister as she shoved blankets off her head. “I _live_ here, you know.”

            Elsa’s fair cheeks turned bright red as she awkwardly attempted to hide her phone behind her back. “I know . . . it’s just. I wasn’t expecting you to be watching TV in the dark. Are you sick?”

            Emma shook her head. “Killian’s schedule is packed, and he can’t rehearse at all today. I’m trying to get caught up on his show. You know, since getting cast on it is his most memorable year?”

            “Oh,” Elsa said distractedly as her phone dinged with an alert. She lifted it and a slow smile spread across her face. Emma tilted her head in curiosity as she watched her sister’s blush deepen. Then her fingers were flying over the screen as her smile widened.

            “Who’s that?”

            Elsa looked slightly guilty as she lifted wide eyes to meet Emma’s. “Uh, just . . . Graham. He thinks we need to . . . uh, get another rehearsal in tonight.” She started backing towards her bedroom. Her phone lit up again, and she held it up for Emma to see. “I need to take this.” Then she disappeared into her room.

            Emma contemplated her sister’s odd behavior, but before she could really wrap her mind around it, Henry burst through the door.

            “Hey Mom,” he said as he dropped his book bag on the floor and headed for the kitchen. “Whoa,” he said as he came back to the couch with a bag of chips in his hand, “ _Neverland_. How far have you gotten?”

            “Season three.”

            “What part?”

            “Tink just tried to wake Hook up with True Love’s Kiss.” Emma scowled at the TV as she pointed the remote at the screen. “I don’t understand why it didn’t work. It’s obvious they’re true love.”

            “Look at you, Mom,” Henry teased, poking her in the ribs, “hardcore shipping Captain Fairy!”

            “Shut up,” Emma muttered, poking him right back.

                           ***************************************************

            Emma was actually glad she had waited to watch Killian’s show. If she had seen it beforehand, she probably would have acted like a silly fangirl at Comic-Con. Because that’s how she felt right now coming onto the _Neverland_ set. They were filming a two hour special for fall sweeps, so the only way she and Killian could get enough rehearsal time in was for her to come on set today. She and the camera crew had to sign waivers promising that they wouldn’t leak any spoilers. That fact made Emma giddy that she might find out something exciting about Captain Fairy.

            Oh God, Henry was right. She totally shipped it.

            Emma was looking around the green screen soundstage for Killian when she heard an excited squeal behind her. She turned and Rose Moore, who played Tinkerbell, practically tackled her in a hug.

            “It is SO good to see you again!” she said as she threaded her arm with Emma’s. “I’ve wanted to get to know you. _Especially_ with all the fandom drama. I mean, I feel so bad about it all.”

            Emma smiled at Rose and shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”

            “I really hope you know there’s nothing between me and Killian,” Rose continued, her face taking on a serious expression.

            “Oh, sure, he told me,” Emma replied, unsure why Rose was making such a point of it.

“Let me introduce you to the rest of the girls. We have to stick together you know, with such a largely male cast.”

She pulled Emma over and introduced her to Sara, who played Tiger Lily, and Freya, who played Wendy. She had met Freya briefly at Comic Con, but it was her first time meeting Sara. The tall brunette smiled as she shook Emma’s hand.

“We’re so happy to have you here, Emma,” she told her, then she exchanged a knowing glance with Rose, “I think you’ll see a different side to Killian today.”

Emma shook her head in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Freya burst into giggles, “Just wait and see.”

“We saw the last show,” Rose explained, “and we know Killian’s holding something back. Just watch him when he doesn’t think you’re looking.”

Emma glanced from one woman to the next, and Sara winked.

“Trust us.”

It didn’t take Emma long to see what the women were talking about. Killian was obviously comfortable here, with this cast and crew that he’d worked with for the past six years. Gone was the cocky bravado he usually carried, and instead he was friendly, goofy, a little nerdy even. He took his hook off constantly between takes, twirling it, swinging it, even sticking it in his back pocket. He joked off with the younger members of the cast, making Freya laugh so hard during one scene that they had to do it again.

She would never admit it, but watching him do a kissing scene with Rose made her uncomfortable. For some reason, watching it on TV hadn’t bothered her, but seeing it in person had Emma’s stomach churning. They looked so in love and lost in one another.

            But then the director yelled cut, and it was like a switch had flipped. The two of them parted as if they’d been doing nothing more than reading lines. Then Killian said something, and Rose laughed casually. Then she lifted her phone and they took a selfie. After that, they parted ways; Rose to do a scene with Sara, and Killian to try to grab some rehearsal time with Emma.

They acted like kissing each other was just another day at the office. _Like you with a long list of former dance partners?_ a little voice in her head asked. Emma shook her head to clear it. Yes, just like that. So why was watching Killian kissing Rose so weird for her?

“Have you been bored?” Killian asked her as he approached.

“No, actually,” Emma replied honestly, “it’s a lot different than filming a reality show. How do you get so into character when nothing around you is real?”

He laughed, “It took some getting used to, believe me.” He scratched behind his ear as he glanced back at the soundstage behind him. “Listen, we don’t have a lot of time before my next scene, but I can’t exactly rehearse in this costume. Can you give me just a few minutes, and we’ll get to work?”

“Sure,” Emma told him with a nod, and he jogged off towards the costuming department. Emma asked a crew member to show her a good place for them to practice, and she stretched while she waited for Killian’s return. Of course, the DWTS camera crew were following her everywhere she went.

When Killian returned, he was still in his full pirate makeup, complete with thick eyeliner around his eyes, but he’d changed into a t shirt and a pair of sweats. He seemed different than he had all day, suddenly jumpy and wound tight. Emma wasn’t sure if it was her or the fact that they only had half an hour before he had to go get back into costume.

“Hey,” Emma told him, putting a hand to his arm, “we can squeeze in some more rehearsal later tonight, okay? You need to relax. We’re doing a jive, and it’s supposed to be fun.”

Killian let out a long breath, as if trying to follow Emma’s instructions, but his shoulders were still tense when she placed her hands on his arms. They spent ten minutes going over the basic steps, and then Emma turned on their song – “Crocodile Rock” – and started going over the choreography. Killian was far from his flirty, playful self. His jaw kept clenching more and more as they went over the routine, and finally, after bungling a spin, he walked away from Emma in frustration, running both hands through his hair.

“This isn’t working,” he muttered, his eyes staring down at the floor. “I need a character, something I can slip into.”

Emma’s eyes widened in surprise at those words. She swallowed and hesitated for a moment before speaking, “I get it. You and I, we understand each other.”

Killian’s head snapped up, his eyebrows arched in surprise. Emma took a step closer.

“If you play a character, you can hide.” Emma twisted her hands nervously before plunging on. “But you’ve got to give me something, Killian. I almost became one with my sofa yesterday binge-watching your show.”

She chuckled as he waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. And one of the plot twists I loved was Hook’s backstory. Captain Hook is all sexy bravado, but then you find out he was Tootles, the weakest, nerdiest little lost boy who got bullied by Pan and the others. They push him into the swamp and leave him there, where he loses his hand to a crocodile.” Emma paused and reached out to take Killian’s hand. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m familiar with the story, Emma.”

“Humor me. I have a point. So Tootles runs away with the pirates, comes back all swagger. But he’s still that scared lost boy inside. _That’s_ what makes the audience love him. So tell me, Jones. Is there a backstory to _your_ swagger?”

Something sparked in Killian’s eyes, and he yanked his hand from hers. “You’re not a bloody therapist,” he snapped. He looked up at the cameras as if he’d forgotten about them until that moment. “And the last thing I want is to pour out some sob story with cameras running.”

Emma swallowed down her irritation. Didn’t he know how shows like this worked? But she could see his anger rising quickly, and didn’t want to start a shouting match. So she took a deep breath and spoke with as much patience as she could muster. “I need to know for this to work. The audience needs to see it.”

Killian sighed as he ran his hand wearily over his face. “Well, I had to give this bit to the producers anyway, so . . . my brother Liam. He’s the only family I have left. So yeah, I guess I can understand the lost boys a little bit.”

Emma gnawed on her lower lip, her stomach roiling. She glanced at the cameras. Shit, it was one thing to get Killian to open up. Connecting with him was another thing entirely. Finally, she expelled a long breath. “Hell, Killian, I had to watch the producers of _So You Think You Can Dance_ tell the world how my twin brother and I were tossed out on the side of the road.” She took a step closer and rested her hand on his arm. He smiled down at her hesitantly.

“I suppose if anyone could understand it would be you.”

“So Liam, he’s older?”

Killian nodded, swallowing at a lump in his throat. “Older. Smarter. Wiser. Always made the right choices while I had a tendency to make the wrong ones.”

Emma chuckled and rolled her eyes, “Yeah, I definitely get that. And my brother’s only three minutes older than me.” She then locked her eyes with his before asking gently, “So what happened to your parents?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and averted his eyes. “That’s a long, tragic tale I’d rather not get into.”

Emma’s frustration swelled once again. “More tragic than being tossed away like garbage?”

He turned and leaned closer to her. “Maybe losing them without knowing them is less painful.”

Her frustration now turned to anger, “How dare you compare your pain to mine!”

“You don’t know me, Swan, don’t pretend like you do!”

“I’m _trying_ but you won’t let me!”

They were shouting so loudly at each other they had drawn the attention of half the _Neverland_ crew, and in their anger they had completely forgotten the DWTS camera crew.

Killian rolled his eyes, “Please, that’s rich coming from you! You still don’t trust me!”

Emma glared at him. “I would think you’re used to that.”

Killian raised both eyebrows, then snapped back, “What? The Hollywood playboy thing? All the time we’ve spent together, and that’s still how you see me?”

The anger seeped out of Emma as pain and hurt flitted across his face. She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t find words. Because he was right.

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes a darker, stormier blue. “I need to get back into costume,” he finally muttered.  Then he walked away angrily.

Emma deflated as he turned the corner out of view. Wearily, she turned to the cameras. “Turn them off,” she begged. “Please.”

The cameramen exchanged glances, then shrugged and did as she asked. Emma turned to go, needing air. As she did, a soft voice to her right stopped her.

“Hey,” Rose said, giving her at tentative smile. “Don’t give up on him.”

Emma groaned as she massaged her temple. “You heard all that?”

Rose gave a half shrug. “I think everyone on set heard that.”

“Right,” Emma bit out sarcastically as she hugged her arms to her chest.

“He doesn’t want to let you down,” Rose continued.

Emma lifted her head to meet Rose’s gaze, furrowing her brow. “Why?”

Rose shrugged, “He feels like he’s always letting people down. Especially -”

“His brother,” Emma supplied, knowing that feeling only too well from personal experience.

Rose nodded. “And I think . . .  I think he may care for you.”

Emma only stood there, blinking and stuttering as Rose walked past with a tiny half smile on her face. But she only entertained the idea for half second before dismissing it with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

_Yeah right._

    *****************************************************************

They didn’t get another chance to rehearse until late that night, right before shooting wrapped. Killian was even more of a mess. They were both exhausted, but it was more than that. There was awkwardness between them because of their fight, and Rose’s words had Emma distracted.  Emma decided to call it a night, and they both headed home, parting ways in silence.

Emma had just walked through the door of her dark and silent apartment when her cell phone dinged. She pulled it out to find a text from Killian.

_My apologies Swan for my behavior today. It was way out of line._

Emma let out a breath, surprised at how relieved she was to hear from him. Her fingers flew over her touch screen as she typed out a reply. _No worries. I was kind of a bitch myself._

Only moments later his reply popped up on her screen. _Start fresh tomorrow?_

She smiled. _Absolutely._

_Goodnight, Swan._

_Goodnight._

Emma tossed her phone on the kitchen counter then pulled out her laptop. She powered it up as she plopped down on the couch. She logged on, then pulled up Google and typed “Killian Jones” into the search bar. If he wouldn’t tell her his past, then she would just have to dig it up herself.

Emma easily discovered what he had already told her about having an older brother named Liam, but the only thing she discovered about his parents were their names: Brennan and Alice Jones. Her google search also turned up the name of the school he had attended as a teen in the coastal town of Devon, and . . . that was it. Nothing else about Killian Jones until he won his first role in a crime drama on the BBC; a small, guest part over three episodes. His name was listed as the lead guitarist for the rock band Pegasus, and there were a few youtube videos of the band playing in pubs around London. Nothing else. Everything about Killian Jones’s past could fit on a post-it note. Emma frowned.

It seemed there was only one thing left to do. She hopped up from the couch and grabbed her cell phone. She hit the number she wanted in her contact list and nervously paced as she glanced at the clock in the kitchen. A little after midnight. She still had time. It wouldn’t be easy, but it _was_ possible. The executive producer for DWTS picked up, voice thick from sleep. Emma winced, but her resolve didn’t waver. She had to go straight to the top if this was going to work.

“Sir,” she said, summoning up every ounce of confidence she had, “I need a favor for Killian Jones.”

 

                                                                                                    


	7. Softer to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta @distant-rose deserves so much love for this chapter! She really had a lot of work to do with this one, and it is so much better than it would have been if not for her. Thank you so much! Tons of love as usual for my artist, @optomisticgirl for this chapter's art. Please let her know how much you all love it!

**Chapter Seven: Softer to Me**

****

                 The first thought Emma had was how little resemblance there was between Liam Jones and his brother. They both had blue eyes, but that was about all they had in common. Liam was taller and broader, and instead of straight dark hair, his was a curly light brown. He was charming, but in a more polite and disarming way.  

            However, punctuality was apparently a family trait, because Liam was already there when Emma arrived early the next afternoon to the rehearsal studio. He seemed excited to be in on this surprise for his brother, with an eager grin and friendly hug for Emma.

            “Did you bring the stuff I asked for?” Emma asked him.

            Liam nodded and patted the messenger bag slung across his shoulder. “That I did. You’re going to know my little brother extremely well by the time this rehearsal is over. Whether he wants you to or not.”

            Emma rubbed her hands together gleefully and gave the cameras a sly grin. “That’s the idea!”

            When Killian arrived, he was distracted when he walked through the door, his face down as he rapidly typed out a text on his phone. “Morning, Swan, I just need to send this to my agent, and I’m all yo-“

            He stopped mid-sentence as he glanced up and saw his brother standing there. Liam threw his arms wide and enveloped him in a hug. Killian seemed rooted to the spot, his cell phone crushed between the two men.

            “Liam?” he managed to say. “What are you doing here?”

            Liam tilted his head to the side in surprise. “What the bloody hell do you think? To talk some sense into you, that’s what.” He gestured at Emma. “A lady in distress calls, and I come running. Now why are you being so uncooperative, little brother?”

            Killian gave her a look of almost betrayal as Emma sheepishly shrugged her shoulders. Liam’s words had her grimacing slightly. She hadn’t expected him to speak so condescendingly to Killian. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all.

            “You told him I’m being uncooperative?”

            Emma had never sensed anything but confidence in Killian’s voice. Until this very moment. “No!” she hurried to explain. “I mean . . . Well, yes, I did. But not with your dancing. With . . . opening up.”

            Emma bit her lip and shrugged again.

            “You won’t tell her anything about your past,” Liam continued, slapping Killian on the shoulder. He then took a seat on the ledge of the practice stage in the corner and began removing items from his bag. “So, little brother, I’m here to tell Ms. Swan everything you won’t.”

            Emma sat down eagerly beside Liam Jones when she saw that he had pulled out one large, fat photo album as well as two slender ones. When she looked up at Killian, she was dismayed to see him still on the other side of the room, face pale.

            “It’s _younger_ brother,” he corrected, “and I’ve always been a very private celebrity.”

            “Then you shouldn’t have signed up for a reality show,” Liam quipped, laughing.

            Emma frowned. For all his cocky swagger and his very public partying, Killian Jones _was_ very private about his past. Emma’s Google search last night proved it. And the thing was, she understood, so she took a deep breath and reached her hand out towards her partner.

            “I know this is hard,” she said softly, “but I’m not asking this to be mean or spread gossip about your personal life. You did this show to change your image, to let people see a different side to you. Did you think it would be easy?”

            Killian’s eyes locked on hers for a long moment. Then he gave her a half smile. “It isn’t as if you haven’t been there, aye, Swan? The details of your family going public when you did _So You Think You Can Dance_?”

            Emma returned his smile. “Exactly. Like I said, you and I. We understand one another.”

            Killian deflated, his shoulders sagging, but he smiled as he shuffled his way over to her. She couldn’t help thinking that he looked a bit like a puppy who knew it was about to be swatted with a newspaper.

            “Come now, Killy,” Liam laughed, “it’s just some family photographs.”

            “Just,” Killian muttered, “and don’t call me Killy.”

            The fat album, Emma came to discover, were all from when Liam and Killian were very young. When their mother was still alive. She seemed, at least in the pictures, to be a joyful woman who was full of life. That was confirmed with the fond memories that the two men related. It was the kind of happy childhood Emma had always dreamed of in foster care before Ingrid came along. Brennan was apparently the family photographer because Alice Jones was in many of the pictures, usually laughing, always smiling. In most, the boys were with her, and she was evidently also an affectionate woman, pulling the boys in for hugs, or kissing their cheeks. One of Killian when he was about eight made Emma laugh out loud. He was in a little suit, and his mother was bending down to kiss him, something Killian evidently didn’t want her to do, based on the scowl maring his face.

            “If I had known she would get sick,” Killian said thickly, “I wouldn’t have complained so much when she stole kisses.”

            Emma’s laughter died on her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

            “Pancreatic cancer,” Liam explained, “which is very aggressive. They gave us one to three months. We got six weeks.”

            “I was nine,” Killian added.

            The room fell completely silent as Liam closed the fat book which contained the first nine years of Killian’s life, the first fourteen of Liam’s. He picked up the two much thinner volumes.

            “Our father was never the same after that,” Liam said quietly. He opened the first thin book on his lap. “He drank himself into oblivion, so there are no pictures until Killian was fourteen. That’s when I moved us both out and got custody of my brother.”

            “Just some family photographs, aye?” Killian snapped. He stood quickly and began to pace the room. Emma bit her lip as she watched him and then glanced at the cameras.

            “Maybe we’ve gotten enough,” she said hesitantly, “would you like to maybe honor your mother in some way? Choose the year she died as your most memorable year?”

            “It was memorable all right,” Killian said sarcastically, “just not one I particularly want to celebrate in dance.”

            “We had some good times, though,” Liam continued brightly as he opened the first of the thinner photo albums. He was obviously the optimistic brother. Emma knew only two well what a double-edged sword that could be. David was the exact same way.

            “You said you got custody of Killian when he was fourteen,” Emma said, eyeing Killian warily as he continued to pace, “but you couldn’t have been much older. What . . . nineteen?”

            “Aye,” Liam replied, “family services kept close tabs on us, and it wasn’t easy, but anyone could see that we were better off on our own. We didn’t have much, as you can imagine, but we made do. This,” Liam said, pointing at a photo of a tiny house by the sea, “this was home, sweet home. Used to be a fishing shed.”

            “It looks . . . “Emma groped in her mind for words. The house was incredibly small and looked like it could barely stand. “ . . . quaint.”

            “It was a shack,” Killian corrected, “don’t romanticize it.”

            “But we had lots of laughs together,” Liam continued, undeterred, “and Killian was a handful, let me tell you. But I made sure he stayed out of trouble and finished school.” He tenderly traced a photograph with his finger, more like a parent than a sibling, “Look at him here. Isn’t he adorable? With those gangly arms and legs.”

            Emma looked closely and couldn’t help laughing. Fourteen year old Killian Jones looked a lot different than the “sexiest man alive” who had graced the cover of People magazine. His dark hair needed a trim and hung in his face, which was dusted with freckles. His arms and legs were scrawny, and he looked a little small for fourteen. “You aren’t smiling,” Emma giggled.

            “That’s because of the braces,” Liam chuckled, “I had to sell my car to help pay for the bloody things, and the git refused to smile for photos the entire year he wore them. That sexy smile the women always go on about wasn’t cheap, let me tell you.”

            Emma heard Killian grumble, and when she glanced up, he was clenching his jaw so hard, she was afraid he might ruin said sexy smile.

            “Oh my God!” Emma exclaimed, distracted from Killian’s brooding by the next page of the photo album, “Are those . . . Star Wars action figures?”

            Liam was full out laughing now. “Oh yeah, believe it or not, Killian was a bit of a nerd. He had an entire closet full of Star Wars memorabilia. Scoured flea markets and antique toy stores for that stuff.”

            Killian stomped over then and snatched the album out of Liam’s hands. “First off, I’ll have you know some of that stuff is valued at thousands of dollars. Second, can we please stop rehashing the most painful years of my life?”

            And with that, Killian marched out of the room with the albums tucked under his arm, slamming the door behind him. Emma swiveled to the other Jones, her eyes wide.

            “What was that all about?”

            Liam sighed and ran a hand down over his face, “He’s right, those were tough years.”

            “Because you had lost your parents and were on your own.”

            Liam shook his head. “Not just that. I mean, I think that’s a tough age for any kid, especially boys. School was . . . rough for him. Everyone knew how poor we were.”

            Emma nodded. Once again, it seemed, she and Killian understood one another.

                         ****************************************************

            This wasn’t a conversation Emma particularly wanted to have with the cameras around. Yet everyone knew those cameras were always following them; it was the nature of the show. So when Emma found Killian outside on the fire escape, she tried to ignore the fact that a camera guy and a sound guy were right behind her. She turned off her mic as she sat down next to Killian, even though she knew they could still pick up the entire conversation.

            “I’m sorry for picking at old wounds,” she told him.

            Killian let out a long breath, then shook his head. “No, you’re just doing your job. And I suppose it’s time I faced my past instead of running from it.”

            Emma just sat there quietly waiting for him to speak. He finally cleared his throat and began.

            “I got . . . picked on a lot in school.”

            Emma nodded in sympathy. “Liam told me.”

            Killian ran his hands through his hair for a moment, and when he was done, it was sticking up crazily. Emma had to fold her hands in her lap to keep herself from smoothing it out.

            “God, this is embarrassing,” he finally said, chuckling wryly. “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this. It’s stupid, really.”

            Emma laid a hand tentatively on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. Crap that happens when you’re a kid? It sticks with you.”

            Killian simply nodded. “So, there was this older girl at school. Her name was Milah. God, she was gorgeous. And popular and full of life. I had the biggest crush on her. I was only fourteen, and awkward, and honestly rather morose. The only friend I had was my brother. Anyway, I was shocked when one day she actually spoke to me. She told me she found out that I fancied her, and she wanted me to meet her in the woods after school.”

            Killian paused again, and Emma waited.

            “When I got there, she wasn’t alone. Her boyfriend, a big bloke, and several other of the popular kids were there too. They pinned me down, stripped me down to my knickers, and tied me to a tree. All the while, Milah was laughing. Asking why I ever thought a girl like her would like a boy like me.”

            Emma snorted. “I bet she’s kicking herself now.”

            Killian gave her his best eyebrow quirk. “Why Swan, are you trying to admit in a roundabout way that you find me irresistibly attractive?”

            Emma rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs. Then she abruptly blinked and lifted her hand as something occurred to her. “Wait a second. Did you say they tied you to a tree? They didn’t . . . just leave you there, did they?”

            Killian nodded grimly. “I’m afraid they did. Thankfully, one of the teachers at my school noticed something suspicious, and came out there to see what was going on. The bullies were long gone, but there I was, tied to the tree in nothing but my skivvies. Blubbering like a baby, too, I’m ashamed to say. I at least didn’t let the bullies see me cry.”

            Killian glanced back at the camera, his face suddenly growing bright red.

            “Hey,” Emma said, giving his shoulder a firm nudge, “don’t be embarrassed. Lots of kids have been through the same thing. Including me. I think your story can give lots of other Star Wars nerds out there hope.”

            He returned Emma’s teasing smile at that last statement, but he lifted a stern finger. “Oi, Swan, that’s Star Wars _fan_. And we’re a diverse, intelligent lot.”

            Emma nodded in mock seriousness. “I’ll remember that.” They fell silent again until she asked softly, “So what’s your most memorable year. _Really?_ ”

            Killian’s brow furrowed in a determined expression, then he lifted one of the photo albums to his lap and flipped to a page further towards the middle. “This. This is my most memorable year. The year I turned sixteen.”

            Emma leaned over to the page he had opened to. In some, he had a guitar on his lap, smiling in a way he hadn’t at fourteen (of course, the braces were gone). In others, he was onstage in what looked like school productions of various plays. In some, he was in a group of other teenagers, the pulleys and curtains of a backstage world all around them.

            “When I discovered performing,” he told her, “it changed me. I had never liked who I was, but suddenly, I could be anyone I wanted to be. I could be strong instead of weak. Rich instead of poor. Confident instead of bashful. And with my music, I could express all the emotions that felt too scary to let out any other way.” He lifted his face, his expression serious, and his bright blue eyes locked on hers. “Does that make any sense?”

            Emma’s smile wobbled, and her hand trembled slightly as she rested it atop his on the photo album. “Actually, it makes perfect sense.” Her eyes lit up then, and she squeezed his hand. “And I also think I have the perfect jive. If you’re brave enough that is.”

            Killian chuckled and ducked his head, scratching that oft-abused spot behind his ear. “I think I’ve already proven that. Sharing what I just did in front of the cameras.”

            Emma nodded resolutely as she stood and slapped Killian on the back, “Then get your butt in here so we can choreograph something already. Time’s ticking, Jones.”

            She was so excited, she brushed right past the camera guy. She would have to get permission to change songs, which might be tricky, but Emma had never been so excited to choreograph a routine in her life. And it actually had little to do with winning the mirror ball. She had always called dance her therapy, and this time, she hoped it would be the same for her partner.

                           **************************************************

            It was already Friday, and dress rehearsals were only two days away. She and Killian had put in hours and hours of grueling rehearsals to make up for lost time. It had taken a full twenty-four hours to get the rights to “Sk8r Boi” by Avril Lavigne instead of “Crocodile Rock,” and when they got the official word, they embraced one another in genuine relief. If they had been unable to obtain the rights, Thursday would have been an entirely wasted day.

            Bringing Liam to LA turned out better than Emma could have imagined. He came to rehearsals for hours at a time, not for one minute seeming put out or bored. His presence both encouraged Killian and pushed him to work twice as hard. She didn’t necessary like Killian’s hero worship of his brother, but she also saw genuine affection between the two of them.

            Emma reluctantly called it a night around 7 pm. They had been at it for eight hours, with only a few short breaks and half an hour at lunch. Emma was sore, her waist and arms were bruised from practicing lifts, and she could feel multiple blisters starting on her feet. The last thing they needed was for either of them to get injured.

            “Well the least I can do is buy you both dinner,” Liam said as he draped an arm over each of their shoulders, but he almost immediately withdrew them as he wrinkled his nose. “As soon as you both shower that is.”

            They all laughed. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got to get home,” Emma told him, “Mary Margaret’s been with Henry all afternoon while Elsa and I rehearse, and I know she wants to get home to David.”

            As the three of them walked through the door, a petite blur with auburn hair collided into Liam. Belle French, the fashion vlogger who was dancing with Jefferson, blinked rapidly as she looked up into Liam’s blue eyes. She immediately blushed as a smile filled Liam’s face. His cheeks dimpled as he rested both hands on Belle’s upper arms to steady her. Emma grinned as she shared a glance with Killian. It was a meet-cute if she ever saw one.

            “My apologies,” Liam said, “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

            “Oh, it wasn’t your fault,” Belle replied. Her hands shook slightly as she brushed her hair out of her face, but it didn’t seem to be caused by Liam’s attractive presence. The young woman glanced nervously behind her, and Emma narrowed her eyes as she followed Belle’s gaze. At the end of the hall lurked Robert Gold, millionaire business mogul who had been paired with pro dancer Ruby.

            Liam’s gaze fell on the man at the same moment, and he seemed just as concerned as Emma. “Are you okay, lass?” he asked Belle.

            “Sure. I’m fine,” Belle said in a voice that sounded anything but.

            Killian narrowed his eyes. “Was Gold hitting on you again?”

            Belle glanced back down the hallway, and let out a relieved sigh when saw that the older man was gone. “Yes, Killian, but please don’t make a big deal out of it.”

            Kilian clenched his jaw, and Emma could clearly see that in his opinion, it actually _was_ a big deal. “He’s used to getting whatever – and whoever – he wants just because he’s rich,” Killian bit out.

            Belle reached out and put her hand on Killian’s elbow. “I can handle him, really.”

            “We were just about to grab a bite for dinner,” Liam spoke up, “would you care to join us?”

            “Oh, I . . .” Belle’s hand fluttered nervously at her throat as her blush deepened.

            Killian rolled his eyes, “Belle, this is my brother Liam. I apologize for his rudeness. He tends to lose his head around beautiful women.”

            Belle’s eyes sparkled as she smiled up at the older Jones brother. “Well, if you’re half the gentleman Killian is, then I accept the invitation.”

            “Well,” Emma said, struggling to keep from chuckling at the besotted pair, “I’ve got a ten year old at home who probably is playing video games instead of doing his homework.”

            Killian grasped Emma’s arm and whispered in her ear, “You’re abandoning me to be the third wheel?”

            Emma just patted his arm and winked. “Good luck.” She laughed to herself as she headed for her car. She knew all along bringing Liam Jones to LA was a good idea.

                         *******************************************************

            Emma and Killian’s order in the dance lineup couldn’t have been worse. They were slated to dance right after Graham and Elsa. His memorable year was when he got his service dog, Hunter. The video package was incredibly moving, emphasizing Graham’s service as a marine and his struggles as a wounded vet. The footage of his bond with Hunter had even Emma emotional, and almost the entire studio audience were dabbing at tears before Graham and Elsa even danced. Then the music started, and their contemporary piece to “Human” by Christina Perri was emotional, raw, and beautiful. The entire panel of judges were on their feet, and tears were streaming down Tiana’s face. Their scores were straight nines – the highest score so far of the season.

            The show went to commercial, and before it did, a clip was shown of Killian storming off during his and Emma’s rehearsal on the set of _Neverland_. Dramatic sound effects made it seem worse, as did the editing which cut to Emma covering her face with her hands. Killian glanced over at her with concern.

            “Don’t worry,” she assured him, “they always play up the drama.”

            “It’s not that,” he whispered back, “we have to dance after Elsa and Graham? Seriously?”

            Emma chuckled, even though she was worried about the same thing. “Just dance it full out. And remember, the jive is supposed to be fun.”

            She squeezed his hand, and he managed to half smile. Then he donned the fake black-rimmed glasses that matched the ones Emma was wearing. “Got it,” he told her, “just have fun.” Then he headed for the opposite side of the stage where he would enter. Ariel and the rest of the female troupe were already taking their place in front of the row of lockers that had been set up on the stage. At the beginning of the song, the troupe dancers, representing Milah and her popular friends, would tease Killian, dance around him, and then leave. Then Emma would come out from the other side of the stage, shyly flirt with Killian, and then they would dance a jive together.    

            When the rehearsal footage played, Emma wished Killian were standing next to her so she could offer him her support. It downplayed their arguing, and instead focused on Emma bringing Liam over from the UK, and Killian opening up about his difficult past. The editing team had done a great job of integrating photographs from the albums Liam had brought as well. Still, she knew none of it could be easy for Killian to watch.

            It was also strange for Emma to stay in the wings when the music first started. Killian, dressed in a Star Wars t-shirt and jeans, came out looking for all the world like an awkward teenager. Yet when the dancing/teasing started with the troupe members, he also used physical humor to keep the whole thing fun and light. The audience was laughing already.

            The lyrics “but all of her friends, they stuck up their nose” was Emma’s cue to burst on stage, sending the mean girls scattering. She and Killian did a few moves, including a lift, then rushed down the steps by the end of the chorus. They did another full minute of dancing packed with enough pure jive to satisfy Blue, and ended with Killian scooping Emma up beneath her knees and into his arms. She wrapped her arms giddily around his neck and punctuated the final note of the music with an exaggerated kiss to his cheek. When Killian put her down, they were both thrilled to see the entire panel of judges once again on their feet. Emma jumped up and down in excitement, giving Killian another kiss on the cheek. As for Killian, he was grinning ear to ear.

When everyone finally calmed down, Tiana went first. She smiled through watery eyes as she spoke. “I asked you to open up, and you did. And the message you sent just now? So many boys and young men will be empowered watching this. Lots of women have tackled the topic of bullying on this show, and I am so moved that a male dancer has finally done it. I’m speechless!”

It took a minute for the audience to stop cheering so that Blue could speak. “I wasn’t a huge fan of all this business with the school lockers, and the troupe, but it had some good jive in it.”

Emma and Killian nodded their heads; they had been sort of expecting as much. Then Teach gave his brief input with a shrug, “I wasn’t bored. The story you told had me hooked. So yeah, solid routine.”

Emma and Killian then headed up to the balcony to talk to Ashley, who squealed like a fangirl. “Oh my gosh, we don’t have a lot of time, but you two look SO adorable,” she gushed. “That was the cutest routine EVER!”

Emma smoothed down the skirt of her red plaid dress, then nerdily shoved her glasses up her nose and flipped her ponytail. “Yeah, that’s us, adorable.”

Killian simply crushed Emma to him in a tight hug. Ashley laughed. “Well, let’s get your scores.”

“From Tiana Sabine,” the announcer intoned.

            Grinning, Tiana pulled out her paddle and shouted, “nine!”

Emma and Killian jumped up and down with excitement. Tiana’s score was, miraculously, joined by nines from Blue and Teach as well. They went crazy then, Killian picking Emma up and twirling her around.

“It looked like this was a tough week for the two of you,” Ashley said, “how does it feel now, in light of those scores?”

“Well,” Killian answered, struggling to catch his breath, “I won’t lie. This week took me places I didn’t want to revisit. But Emma was there for me every step of the way.”

Emma felt herself blush and quipped, mostly to lighten the moment, “He means I pushed him every step of the way.”

Everyone in the balcony laughed. Ashley then turned her microphone on Killian again. “Tiana said that you were empowering tonight. How does that make you feel?”

Killian shook his head. “Look, I’m no role model. But I would say to any kid out there who feels alone, who feels like they don’t matter, just hang in there. Be true to who you are and embrace the talents you’ve been given.”

“Well said,” Ashley said with a nod. Then she turned to the camera. “Back to you on the dance floor, Marco.”

    There were only two more dances left, and then all the couples were lined up for the elimination. Emma braced herself for her and Killian to be in the bottom three because of their low scores from the previous week, but miraculously, they weren’t. Ursula Neptune, the R&B singer, ended up going home along with her partner Arthur Pendragon. It was kind of a shame since the woman’s quickstep that night to one of her own songs had been lovely. Emma and Killian joined the rest of the cast after filming wrapped, saying goodbye to Ursula and congratulating everyone else. Before they left for the night, they snatched one of the nine paddles and took a selfie with it. They both posted it to their Instagram accounts with the caption, “Take that, bullies!”

By the next morning, the post was one of the top trending on social media. The general consensus for Killian’s fans was summed up best in a retweet by a fan who went by the screen name @killianandfairydust : “Killian and his partner are so cute! I can’t stand it!”


	8. See The Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Before writing this fic, I did some -not a ton, but some - research on Dancing With the Stars. Every source I looked at said that the pro dancers on the show are forbidden in their contracts from getting romantically involved with their partners. That's why relationships are only ever "rumored" until after the season is over. While many hook ups have happened - even marriages - nothing is ever official while filming is happening. That doesn't stop the hosts from asking questions, of course, but the dancers and celebs are usually coy about it. Until this season!!! I don't know how many of you watch DWTS, but Alexis Ren told her partner Alan that she was developing feelings for him - on camera. The following week, Alan told her he had feelings for her to, and kissed her! On camera! Believe me, this has NEVER happened before! Derek Hough even got in trouble ages ago when compromising paparazzi pictures came out of him and his partner. I based my fic on what I knew of the show in the past as a fan and through my research. So thanks a lot DWTS for making me seem like I don't know what I'm talking about!  
> * Once again, many thanks to my artist optomisticgirl. There isn't chapter art this week, but some AMAZING stuff is coming that I can't wait for ya'll to see, so go follow her on tumblr!  
> * And my beta, distantrose, was incredible. Her insights on Henry's character especially influenced this chapter. So thanks, Ro!

 

**Chapter Eight: See the Light**

Emma snuggled into the corner of the couch with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. A box of pizza lay open on the coffee table. She honestly couldn’t believe she agreed to this. The rules on how much time partners on the show could spend together was hazy. Romantic relationships were expressly forbidden in everyone’s contracts. However, there were no strict guidelines to prevent them. And honestly, since rumors of romance helped ratings, the producers typically looked the other way.

So the fact that Killian Jones was currently sitting on her living room floor playing video games with her son wasn’t a shock because of contractual agreements. No, it was a shock because Emma Swan didn’t do things like this. She didn’t invite men over to hang out and eat pizza with her and Henry. She enjoyed hanging out with her fellow pros on set, but that was as deep as things ever went. One night stands were also common in Emma’s social life, but she had strict rules for those. It was never anyone she knew (even a first name was more than she needed or asked for), and she never brought them home. Most of her one night stands happened on tour while Henry was spending the summer with Ingrid; a way to release pent up frustrations with her social life.

Killian groaned as he dropped the video game controller in his lap, and Henry fist pumped in victory.

“Hey,” Killian protested, gesturing at the screen, “in my defense, it’s been awhile since I played one of these. They’ve gotten way more complicated. Am I right, Swan?”

Emma shrugged when he turned to her for back up. “I don’t know, or maybe you’ve never had game.”

“Oooh, good one mom!” Henry laughed.

“Ouch,” Killian said, pretending to grimace with genuine hurt, “how quickly my partner turns on me!”

“That’s because I’m her kid, right Mom?” Henry replied with a grin.

Emma smiled back. “True. And because you’re my kid, I also have to tell you it’s bedtime.”

“Aw, Mom!” Henry groaned. “I thought we were gonna watch some _Star Wars_.”

Killian slapped his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Maybe next time, lad.”

His words caused Emma’s throat to constrict, and she felt a sudden, familiar urge to flee. Killian had talked her into doing this because he said they had to celebrate their great scores. She never expected him to bond with Henry or expect a “next time.”

Henry, however, had no such qualms. “Sweet,” he said, giving Killian a fist pump. Then he brushed a kiss to Emma’s cheek and whispered in her ear, “Thank you, Mom! The kids at school are gonna die!”

Once Henry’s door shut behind him, a slight awkwardness descended on the room. Killian glanced her way, ducking his head when she turned her gaze intently into her mug of cocoa. She took a sip as he grabbed some of the pizza boxes and took them to the fridge.

“I wonder why Elsa’s not home yet,” she muttered. The words fell flat. Why should he care where her roommate was?

“You want these boxes taking up your fridge, or should I get some aluminum foil or something?” Killian asked, pausing in front of the open refrigerator.

Emma waved her hand. “Oh, just shove the boxes in. Henry will scarf the rest down in no time.”

Killian nodded and did as she asked. Then he shuffled awkwardly in the middle of her kitchen. “He’s a good kid, Henry.”

Emma smiled wistfully. “The best.”

Killian eyed her a bit warily as he came closer and eased down next to her on the couch. He was treating her as if she were a skittish animal who might bite him. She rolled her eyes. This was ridiculous! They were in each other’s personal space constantly rehearsing and dancing. Why was it awkward now? Emma shifted away from the corner of the couch and offered Killian half her blanket. He shook his head that he was fine, but the gesture had its intended effect. He relaxed and settled back against the couch, flinging his arm across the back of it, his hand resting just behind her shoulder.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

Emma hesitated, biting her lip.

“I think I’ve earned it, don’t you?” he asked her softly.

She set her mug down on the coffee table. “I thought my life was an open book. With everything reality TV has dug up.”

Killian nodded. “Aye, but you managed to keep some things private.”

Emma held her breath, clutching the blanket in her fists. Henry’s dad. That was the only thing he could be referring to.

“Why is your name Swan and David’s isn’t?”

Emma let out a long, relieved breath. If Killian picked up on her emotional reaction, he didn’t let on. “That’s simple, really. He’s an optimist. I’m not.”

Killian tilted his head. “Meaning?”

“He still clings to the hope that our parents had a good reason for doing what they did. I just can’t. Who leaves their babies on the side of the highway? We could have been killed!” Emma toyed with a frayed edge of the blanket. “Our names were stitched into our baby blankets. We both still have them, actually. David thinks it’s a sign,that they loved us.” Emma shrugged.

Killian nodded thoughtfully. “Has he tried to find them? I mean, I’m guessing it’s possible if you know their last name was Nolan.”

“Yeah,” Emma answered as she picked up her mug again, “social workers found records at a local hospital of twins named David and Emma Nolan being born a week before we were found. To a Ruth and Robert Nolan. But they must have changed their names or something, because after that, they completely fell off the grid.”

“So they don’t want to be found.”

“Exactly.” Emma agreed, sitting up and clutching her mug tighter. “I’ve tried to tell him a million times to drop it, but . . . every once and awhile, he starts digging again. Ingrid’s the one who loved us and accepted us. She’s the one who gave us a home.”

Emma stared off in the distance, thinking back to the dance class she and David took at the Boy’s and Girl’s club. They were eleven years old and in a group home. Ingrid volunteered her time teaching the dance lessons. Emma always loved how patient she was, so calm. Her gentle smile when she told Emma that she had raw talent was like someone offering a cup of water in a desert.

“I hated how people judged Ingrid,” Emma said aloud. “They tried to make it seem like she only cared about grooming David and I for stardom. Elsa too. But it wasn’t like that. She wasn’t some crazy stage mom. We all just love to dance.”

“What about your other sister, Anna?”

Emma chuckled. “I’m surprised you even know about her.” Emma cut her eyes to look at Killian. “Did you cyber stalk me?”

He shrugged and gave her that disarming smile of his. “I had to learn a little bit about my partner. And actually, I have a confession.” He took a deep breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I was a fan. When you were on _So You Think You Can Dance_. When I said I was hoping it would be you, I meant it.”

Emma blinked, her throat suddenly going dry. “You . . . were a fan?” she finally squeaked.

Killian raised his hands quickly. “I’m not saying I had some celebrity crush.”

Emma exhaled loudly and they both laughed. “Good, I was starting to worry you were a stalker.”

“No, I always liked that show. The performances are so incredible.”

Emma’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Thank you. But you said before you never watched _Dancing with the Stars_. So why do it?”

“I know Regina told you. This is _Neverland’s_ final season. Do you know how many TV stars have one hit show and little to no career afterwards?”

Emma abandoned her mug for good and leaned against the back of the couch, shifting to face him, “A lot, now that I think about it.”

“Exactly. And a lot of times it’s because people see them only as that character they played. Captain Hook is a larger-than-life role. I wanted people to see that there’s more to me.” Killian shrugged. “And I know the tabloid stories haven’t helped. I won’t lie – I got caught up in the sudden fame at first. Partying almost every night, keeping my romantic entanglements . . . casual.” He blushed as he glanced her way. “So you were right about me, Emma. But Rose and other friends helped snap me out of it. And I’ve left that all behind. I’m trying to be a better man.”

Emma tapped the arm of the couch. “You don’t have to defend your past to me. I get it.”

Killian seemed to visibly relax at that. “Good. So . . . your other sister?”

Emma nodded. “Anna. Well, poor thing was the clutz of the family. Tried dance classes when she was little, but it just wasn’t her cup of tea. Anyone who claims Ingrid was just adopting kids with dance talent should see her with Anna. She’s the reason Ingrid moved out to Colorado.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Anna and her husband Kristoff run a ski lodge out there. They’ve got four rambunctious boys who are seven, five, three, and eight months.”

Killian whistled, his eyebrows raising to his hairline. “She’s got her hands full!”

“Which is exactly why Ingrid’s out there. She needed the help desperately.”

Silence fell between them, but not an awkward one. Emma rose and took her mug to the sink, pouring the last bit of hot chocolate down the drain. Once she’d rinsed it and set it in the dishwasher, she turned to find Killian up and collecting his jacket.

“I should probably get home,” he told her, “we have to start a whole new dance first thing in the morning, right?”

“Right,” Emma agreed with a nod and followed him to the door. She was genuinely surprised that he hadn’t pried about Henry’s dad. It also made her like him a bit more. As a friend, anyway.

He opened the door, then turned to her with a light in his eyes and mischief in his smile. “It was a lovely evening, Swan,” he told her, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. His eyes never left hers as they lingered there for half a beat.

          Emma scowled and snatched her hand away. “Why do you have to go and do that?”

Killian’s eyes widened. “Do what?”

“Get flirty like that. We were talking, and having a nice evening, and then you have to go and ruin it.”

Killian arched a brow at her. “And how did I ruin it, exactly? I merely thanked you for the nice time we spent together.”

“This wasn’t a date,” Emma hissed through her teeth.

He sauntered closer to her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, his breath fanning hot across her cheek. “And yet, you’re the one who brought up the subject. You sure it didn’t feel like a date?” Killian pulled back, grinning at her scandalously, his tongue darting out of the corner of his mouth. “Or were you waiting for a goodnight kiss?”

“You’re full of it Killian Jones,” she snapped, giving him a firm push out the door. “I’m not so sure you’ve changed at all.” Then she slammed the door in his handsome, cocky face.

Emma jumped when she turned to find Henry standing in the hallway behind her.

“Why were you so mean to him?” Henry accused. “I like him!”

Emma sagged against the door, rubbing her forehead wearily. “He’s an actor, Henry. You can’t trust him.”

Henry stood there, regarding her silently for a moment. “I think he likes you, Mom. And not every guy is like my dad. Not every guy’s gonna leave you.”

Henry didn’t wait for her to respond. He just turned and went back to his room, shutting the door gently behind him. Emma turned and pressed her forehead to the door with a groan. She couldn’t figure out Killian Jones. There were times he was full of swagger, then other times he was sweet and even a bit nerdy. Sometimes he seemed he wanted to be her friend, then other times it felt he wanted more. Then there were times he flirted outrageously and it seemed all he wanted was to get in her pants.

Emma pushed away from the door, resolute. It didn’t matter. They had a show to win. And after that, they would go their separate ways. She loved Henry, but he was too young to understand what men like Killian Jones were really like.

************************************************************

Emma dashed up and down the corridors backstage, swearing under her breath. This was the last thing she needed right now – a missing partner. She was already having to deal with a thick blonde Rapunzel wig that weighed a ton and a gimmick for their routine which hadn’t worked at all in dress rehearsals.     

It was Disney week, and Killian had been both relieved and excited when they had been assigned a waltz to “I See the Light” from _Tangled_.

“I was worried they would make me Captain Hook – the cartoon version,” he had told her honestly.

“What?” she had teased. “Waxed mustaches and perms aren’t your thing?”

Despite the door slam to his face at her apartment, Killian had gone right back to their usual friendly, sometimes snarky banter. The only stress, honestly, this past week was the pressure they felt to deliver another high scoring routine. It may have been why Emma decided to open their number with Emma in a tower. Literally. It involved wires and the two of them actually rappelling down the side of a fake tower. Seriously. What had she been thinking?

And now it was only ten minutes till show time, and Killian had disappeared. Suddenly, Belle crashed right into Emma. She wore a blue dress identical to the one her namesake wore in the opening scene of _Beauty and the Beast_. She and Jefferson were doing a quickstep to “Bonjour,” with Jefferson as Gaston. They really had cast everyone perfectly, including Killian, who made an excellent Flynn Ryder.

But suddenly, Emma realized that Belle was trembling and crying. “Belle? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I – I didn’t mean to cause any trouble . . . I was looking for Jefferson . . . “

Emma hurried past Belle when she saw Killian behind the brunette, shoving Robert Gold into a wall. Killian held the other man, who was dressed like Facilier from _The Princess and the Frog_ , by the front of his shirt.

“Killian!” Emma called out. “What the hell?”

The snarl that had marred Killian’s face melted when he saw Emma. Belle ran past her then with Jefferson at her heels. She ran forward and pulled gently on Killian’s arm. He allowed her to pry him free of Gold.

“He’s not worth it, Killian, please,” Belle spoke to him gently, “you’ll only get yourself in trouble.”

Killian deflated and nodded, giving Belle a tremulous smile. Then he turned to Gold and got right in the man’s face.

“I’m honoring the ladies’ wishes. A quality of a gentleman that I suggest you learn.”

Killian turned away, jaw clenching even as Gold laughed sarcastically. Jefferson shoved the older man in the shoulder and told him to shut the hell up before escorting Belle towards the dance floor. As she and Killian fell in step behind them, she elbowed him in the ribs.

“So, you, uh . . . want to explain what that was all about?”

Killian rubbed his jaw and continued scowling. “It just angers me when a man won’t take no for an answer.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “If Mr. Gold has hurt Belle, the producers won’t stand for it. I mean she needs to –“

“No,” Killian assured her quickly, “it isn’t that. He just keeps pestering her to go out with him. She tried to be nice at first, but it’s gotten to where he just won’t leave her alone. I caught him taking her by the arm just now, and when she tried to pull away . . . “

Emma squeezed his bicep, as they neared the wings. The introduction was already playing, and they had to make their appearance in less than five minutes. “Hey, I get it. The man’s a jerk, but you’ve got to calm down. Think of it as acting. Okay, Flynn Ryder?”

Killian grinned down at her, slipping easily into character, his hair falling rakishly over his eyes. “Are you ready for the smolder?” he teased. 

Emma rolled her eyes, but was secretly relieved to have such an utter professional as a partner.  They came out on stage doing the little bit they had practiced. A stagehand gave Emma her prop: a frying pan, and she made a big show of threatening Killian with it while he waggled his eyebrows charmingly. The rest of the cast was announced to roaring applause. Disney week was always popular.

Luckily, their dance came early in the show. Emma wanted to get their risky stunt out of the way so they could enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Killian came to the tower and made a show of calling up for “Rapunzel” to let down her hair, then grasped onto the vines snaking around it to climb up to her. They embraced at the window, then repelled down the tower together on the system of wires. Once at the bottom, they unsnapped the harnesses and started the waltz.

Once the opening stunt was out of the way, Emma fully enjoyed their waltz. It had been the easiest dance style for Killian to pick up, having done it on episodes of _Neverland_. Emma felt like a true Disney princess in her lavender gown, and the lanterns dangling from the ceiling washed the entire dance floor in a romantic glow.

“All at once, everything is different,” sang the studio band as Killian sank to one knee. Emma sat on the knee he offered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her forehead to his. “Now that I see you,” the singers crooned the final line of the song.

Emma cheered, shaking Killian’s shoulders excitedly, knowing it was the best they had danced it. The studio audience agreed, cheering and surging to their feet. The cheers soon turned to boos, however, when Blue complained about the elaborate opening, telling them they should just stick to the waltz. Tiana and Teach weren’t all that thrilled with the stunt either, and in the end, they got two 8s and one 9 (from Tiana, of course). Emma was more frustrated this time than Killian, and as soon as they suffered through a short interview with Ashley, she stalked backstage in irritation.

Killian found her leaning against a wall backstage, her arms crossed tight around her. She knew the cameras couldn’t be far behind. It didn’t stop Killian from putting his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I think we killed it,” he told her.

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes.

“You know I can actually  _ feel  _ it when you roll your eyes at me?”

That managed to get a chuckle out of her. He eased her around to face him, gently lifting her chin so their eyes met.

“I just feel like I cost us a better score with my stupid tower idea,” Emma said, gesturing with her arms in irritation.

Killian shrugged. “The scores were still pretty good.”

“But we’re favorites now! The judges are going to keep nitpicking us, and I let the pressure get to me this week.”

He pulled her into a hug, and even though she knew this would probably end up in the recap footage next week, she let him.

************************************************************

The studio audience and the celebrities were shocked when it was announced that no one would be going home this week. The pros, on the other hand,  _ pretended  _ to be shocked. There was always a “non-elimination” week, and nine times out of ten, it was Disney week. Killian turned to her with a grin and a hug once the taping was over, but Emma was less enthusiastic.

“That means there will be a  _ double  _ elimination next week, so don’t get cocky, Jones.”

Liam came out on the dance floor to join them, giving them both hearty hugs. “Great job, little brother!”

Killian opened his mouth as if to correct him, then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth his breath. “Thanks,” he said instead.

Liam’s eyes suddenly lit up as he glanced over Killian’s shoulder. “Belle! Lovely to see you again! You were perfectly cast, of course.”

“Thank you,” Belle replied, grasping her skirt and making a little exaggerated bow. “With my name and a vlog called  _ Beauty and Brains  _ I was sort of asking for it.”

“Have you two watched Belle’s youtube channel?” Liam asked Emma and Killian. “It’s incredible! She gives young women fashion and makeup tips but  _ also  _ recommends classic literature for them to read.”

Killian glanced at Emma, his eyes alight as he quirked a brow. “And my brother is watching a fashion vlog . . . why? Need eyeliner tips, Liam?”

Liam turned a bright shade of red and started gaping like a fish. Belle, meanwhile, smiled up at him beneath her batting lashes. “I think it’s sweet,” was all she said as she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Jefferson called for her then, and she dashed off, leaving a bewildered Liam behind.

“Liam,” Emma said, clearing her throat, “I thought you’d be heading back home by now.”

“Umm . . . I’ve . . . decided to stay a bit longer,” he murmured distractedly, his eyes still fixed on Belle’s retreating form.

Killian gave his brother a little shove. “Then go talk to her, you git.”

Emma and Killian both laughed as he nervously approached the petite brunette. Emma turned her head from studying the elder Jones brother to study the younger one. His face was relaxed, his eyes filled with delight as he watched his brother smile and laugh with Belle. As if he felt her eyes on him, Killian turned to her suddenly. She blushed and glanced quickly away.

“It was the smolder again, wasn’t it?” he teased. “I really can’t control it, you know.”

Emma rolled her eyes and punched him lightly in the gut. “And what I wouldn’t give for a frying pan right now,” she quipped.

 


	9. Heart-Shaped Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The dance I invented for this chapter is probably my favorite. One, because it’s to a Nirvana song, and as a nineties teen, I LOVE Nirvana. And second, my dance background is more in this style (contemporary) than in ballroom. I hope you enjoy reading it and the way it brings Emma and Killian closer together!  
> *Thanks to my beta @distant-rose who loved this Nirvana dance almost as much as I did. Ro, our music chats were such a fun part of doing this with you! I’m glad we have similar tastes. And my artist, @optomistic girl, is so talented and perfectly captured a dance that was only in my head beautifully for this chapter. Go over to tumblr to check it out! Thank you, B!

          

Killian grinned widely at Emma when he arrived for their rehearsal the next day. She returned it and gave him a small hug in greeting, and she couldn’t say it was just for the cameras. As much as she hated to admit it, she found herself looking forward to their rehearsals. They actually had fun together. Yeah, he still drove her crazy sometimes, but he also made her laugh. Last week, Killian had summed it up in a teasing remark.

          “You know, Swan, I quite fancy you from time to time. When you’re not yelling at me.”

          Henry’s observation about him “liking” her rose to mind, but she quickly pressed that down. Flirting, she had come to find out, was his autopilot. And like her sarcasm, it was largely a defense mechanism.

          “Sorry we have to rehearse so early,” Killian told her, “but . . . I brought a peace offering.” He extended a styrofoam to-go cup.

          “Coffee?” she asked, with a tilt of her head as she accepted the offering.

          “Please, Swan, are you trying to test me? It’s hot chocolate,” he said, tapping the plastic lid teasingly, “with whipped cream and cinnamon.”

          “I must say, I’m impressed,” she told him as she took a sip, “and I like the early rehearsal. It means I get to pick up Henry from school this afternoon.”

          “I’m glad,” Killian replied, but then he blinked and rubbed his eyes, “although I hope the coffee _I_ consumed on the way here kicks in soon. Filming went into the wee hours this morning.”

          Emma frowned. “Be sure you’re taking care of yourself. I know this show is grueling, especially when you have other commitments.”

          “I’ll try,” he promised with a weary smile, “though I go straight from six hours with you back to the studio for four more hours on green screen. I’ll be glad when the hiatus begins. If I haven’t gotten voted off by then.”

          Emma waved her hand dismissively as she set her hot chocolate down beside her dance bag. “Please. We’re making it to the finale, Jones, I’m telling you.”

          “Okay,” Killian said with a smile, “let’s get to work then. It’s decades week, so what decade did we get?”

          “The 90s.”

          Killian’s brow furrowed. “The 90s.”

          “Why? You don’t like the nineties?”

          Killian shrugged. “Well, that depends. Are we talking flannel, angst-ridden, grunge nineties? Or boy bands, bubblegum pop, dark lipstick nineties?”

          Emma laughed. “Well, don’t you know the decade well! What if I said we were dancing to ‘Heart Shaped Box’ by Nirvana?”

          Killian’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. “Yes!” he enthused, pumping both fists.

          “So Killian Jones likes angst,” she teased, “good to know.”

          “Well, if you were going to make me dance to ‘MmBop,’ you may have had a mutiny on your hands.”

          “Well, the cool thing about this dance is also that it’s contemporary. And believe me, angst works well with contemporary.”

          Killian nodded, his face suddenly determined. “You can get really creative with this, Swan, that’s exciting.”

          Emma put her hands on her hips and studied him silently for a few moments. The corner of her mouth quirked up when he almost started to squirm under her gaze.

          “Why are you looking at me like that?” he finally asked.

          “How would you like to choreograph this dance _with_ me?”

          Killian’s eyes grew wide. “Are you serious?”

          “Sure. You’re a performer and a musician.” She winked. “And you like angst.”

          He gave her a smile she had yet to see on his face. It was genuine, as if he were truly touched by her offer. “I’d be honored, Swan.”

          She cleared her throat, slightly unnerved at how much she liked this new smile on him. “Well, let’s figure out the story we’re trying to tell first.”

          “Well, the lyrics are pretty dark.”

          “Of course they are,” Emma said with a roll of her eyes, “it’s Nirvana.”

          “Aye,” Killian chuckled, “and it’s also about a relationship. One that isn’t making either person happy, yet they stay together anyway.”

          Emma swallowed hard. She knew the feeling.

          “The man says he has complaints, yet then he turns around and says he’s in debt to her,” Killian continued.

          Emma nodded. She had already listened to the song multiple times. “He talks about her having a cord around his neck, yet he climbs right back.”

          “An umbilical noose, to be precise.”

          Emma wrinkled her nose, “I know, but ew! Why did grunge bands use such sick and twisted images? He talks about eating her cancer, too.”

          “They were pushing the envelope. It’s what every revolutionary period in music has done.”

          Emma shook her head and smiled. “I better watch out. I’m treading into your area of expertise.”

          Killian scratched the spot behind his ear. “Well, this is the genre of music I first learned to play on my guitar. I told you I was a bit morose.”

          Her face softened at that. She remembered too well the lonely years before Ingrid. She could see why dark music would appeal to a lonely kid.

          “So we’ve got a man who feels trapped in a relationship,” Emma replied, switching topics back to brainstorming for the routine.

          “Hence the heart shaped box.”

          “But I like what you said,” Emma continued, “about neither of them being happy. I think that should be our story. We’re a couple who aren’t good for each other, but we stay together anyway –“

          “ – because we’re afraid of being alone,” Killian finished for her.

          Emma smiled and then gave him a gentle slap on the shoulder. “You were right, Jones, we do make quite the team.”

          “Or maybe,” he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “this topic strikes a little too close to home for both of us. Loneliness.”

          Emma blinked and took a step back. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. Her hands clenched and unclenched as her mind tried to come up with a response.

          Killian gave her his trademark crooked grin and quirked brow. “I mean, who wouldn’t crave loneliness when you’ve got cameras recording your every move?”

          A slow smile spread across Emma’s face. “Right. Okay, Jones, let’s figure out the first eight counts.”

                    **********************************************************

          It was the day of the show, and Emma and Killian sat on a dingy sofa set up on the dance floor hand in hand, waiting to be announced. Around them, the set department had created a living room in a rundown apartment circa 1995. Killian was dressed in faded jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt (of course). Emma wore black leggings and a plaid shirt, unbuttoned and tied at her waist. Underneath it she wore a black sequined bra top.

          “You know,” Killian teased, fingering the tied ends of her shirt, “I don’t recall black sequined bras being a fashion statement in the nineties.”

          “Well, not all of us are old enough to remember the nineties, old man,” Emma teased back.

          “You wound me, Swan! I’m only thirty-five!”

          Emma just laughed and rolled her eyes at his mock-offended expression. Behind them, the video package played of their rehearsal week. Just as she had expected, it opened with Killian finding her backstage last week after their Tangled routine. The expression on his face, which she hadn’t seen for herself at the time, was tender as he put his arms around her. It also showed their hug when he brought her coffee, and Killian tucking her hair behind her ear. They also played up the emotional portions of their choreography, showing embraces in super slow-motion. Emma rolled her eyes. It was ridiculous the way they were playing it all up like some sort of romantic comedy.

          “Dancing a contemporary routine,” boomed the announcer, “Killian Jones and his partner Emma.”

          She wished there were a commercial break so she would have a little more time to put the video package out of her mind. Killian gave her hand a squeeze, and she nodded, pressing her lips together. He relinquished her hand, and they both stared blankly forward as the lights came up and the music started.  

          The music producers were using a recording of the actual song performed by Nirvana. The live band just couldn’t capture the dissonance or the gravely sound of Kurt Cobain’s voice. _She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak_. Cobain’s broody voice filled the room as Emma and Killian slid off the couch and onto the floor. For the remainder of the dance, they pushed and pulled on one another, neither of them able to stray very far from the couch, which of course symbolized their toxic relationship. They used the couch often, beating it with their fists, jumping on and off it, falling and sliding from it. Then the dance ended as it had begun, both of them sitting, staring blankly forward. The overhead lights dimmed as other lights flickered in front of them, meant to look like a television playing.

          When the music faded out and all the lights came up, Killian leapt up in excitement. Emma, however, felt herself suddenly drained of emotion. If Killian hadn’t pulled her to her feet and embraced her, she may have kept right on sitting there. She felt as if her heart had just been exposed. She blinked as Killian cupped her head, whispering in her ear how “brilliant, bloody amazing,” she was. Somehow, that snapped her out of her daze. She thought about the woman in the song and her heart shaped box. She took a deep breath, and stuffed her own heart back inside of hers.

          As Killian led her over to Marco so they could face the judges, her limbs once again cooperated, and she plastered her “performance smile” on her face. She really was proud of Killian. Not only the way he just danced that, but his creativity in helping her with the choreography. She put her arm around him and squeezed him around the waist. They both struggled to breath; the routine had been intense and the movement had never really stopped.

          So it took them a minute to register that all three judges were on their feet, clapping. Emma blinked; even Blue seemed moved almost to tears. They all sat and Emma gnawed nervously on her lower lip as Teach began.

          “That was artistry, pure and simple. I’ll be straight with you Jones, I didn’t think you would cut it on this show. I wanted to hate you. But that? That was dancing. Amazing dancing. Well done!”

          Emma gave Killian a happy little shove, and he beamed down at her with a huge smile on his sweaty face.

          Tiana was literally crying and struggled to begin her critique. “That is what dance is supposed to be. I can’t believe you’re the same dancer you were three weeks ago. Remember when I said you weren’t opening up? Well, you took what I said to heart, and you have grown remarkably. And Emma? That choreography was genius. You deserve an Emmy for that.”

          Emma was shocked when Killian pressed a kiss to her cheek, nodding vigorously in agreement. Emma grabbed Marco’s microphone.

          “I do want to remind everyone that Killian helped me with the choreography, so thank you Tiana, but I have to give this guy credit too.”

          Killian pulled her closer and pressed another kiss to the top of her head as the audience cheered. Once it died down a little, Blue gave her review.

          “Look, I’m a traditionalist. I like to see ballroom and strictly ballroom. However, you danced that full out, and you were completely in sync with your partner throughout. Not my cup of tea, but I’m impressed.”

          Since the decade week dances were performed in chronological order, and they had been assigned the nineties, their routine was the last one of the night. That meant no time for an interview with Ashley, and the judges gave them their scores right there on the dance floor.

          “Tiana Sabine,” the announcer intoned dramatically.

          Tiana seemed to pause an inordinately long amount of time before revealing her paddle. But when she did, she did so with flourish. “TEN!”

          The studio audience went wild with excitement! The first ten of the season! Killian whooped and picked Emma up off her feet in a tight hug. Once everyone settled down, Blue gave her score of nine and Teach, amazingly, also gave them a perfect ten. It was the highest score of the season so far.

          There was no time for an interview with either Marco or Ashley. Emma was relieved, worried she may have had to field questions about the very misleading implications of their video package. The couples all lined up, and for the first time, Emma was nervous about the double elimination. However, she didn’t have to worry. Gold and Ruby were voted off, to no one’s surprise, and then David and his Disney channel star Violet. The second one _was_ a surprise, and the fifteen year old sobbed with disappointment. Emma was glad for the distraction as everyone surrounded the poor girl to console her. She still felt a little emotionally raw after that dance. And maybe it was the way the video package had been edited, but was Killian giving her an awful lot of casual affection recently?

          According to social media, he was. By the next morning the two of them were the number one trending “couple” on both twitter and tumblr. Emma blushed as she read through the comments.

          “Anyone else out there shipping Killian Jones with his dancing partner?” - @killianjonesandfairydust

          “OMG! I ship it so hard!” - @neverland4evr

          “Did you see the PDA last night? That was a lot of hugs and kisses!” - @hookNtink4life

          They even had a shipping name: Captain Swan. And surprisingly, there were no longer any threats upon her life. She wasn’t sure where the Killer Rose shippers had gone, but there was only one remotely threatening theme among Killian’s “hookers.”

          “She better not break his heart.” - @yeahiamahooker

          But the only heart Emma was worried about was her own.


	10. Shatter Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The title of this chapter is from the song of the same name by Lindsey Stirling. My beta, distantrose, sent me a link to it because she said it reminded her of Emma in my fic. She was absolutely right! I highly recommend watching the music video. It especially seemed fitting for this chapter when Emma's feelings are colliding with her protective walls. Which will win out?  
> * Be sure to check out optomisticgirl on tumblr. Her art for my story is amazing, and I especially can't wait for you all to see her chapter art for next week!

**Chapter Ten: Shatter Me**

 

Emma groaned as she rolled over to find that her alarm clock still only read 6 am. They had two weeks before the next episode of the show instead of one, so she and Killian had decided to take a much needed day off. Of course, Halloween week was looming, so they couldn’t afford more than this one day. The Halloween routines always had high expectations, and there was also the group dance. But even though Killian had two dances to learn, he was so exhausted they agreed pushing on without a break would do more harm than good.

Emma just hoped Killian was able to ignore his internal alarm clock better than she was right now. She put her pillow over her head in frustration pressing the fluffy down against her ears. Someone was being way too loud as they got dressed this morning, and it sure as hell wasn’t Henry.

“Elsa, I swear to God,” Emma muttered against her mattress as she heard another dull thud. Then she heard Elsa giggle. _What the hell?_ Emma sat up in irritation, flinging back her blankets. She paused before getting up. Was that a bark she just heard? Emma went quickly to her door, and as she stepped into the hallway she instantly collided with . . . a dog?

Emma stumbled back as the German Shepherd sat on his haunches obediently. Emma’s gaze lifted to meet Graham Humbert’s. He smiled sheepishly at her as Emma took in his appearance: shirt unbuttoned, boots dangling from his hand. She scowled at him as she brushed past, bursting into her sister’s room. Elsa was sitting on her bed, her back to the door. Her _bare_ back. She yelped and quickly slipped into her robe as she rose and turned towards Emma, her pale cheeks a deep red.

“Well Emma,” she said, pushing her messy hair out of her face, “now you know.”

Emma blinked, then forced her jaw to close. She turned to Graham and hissed, “I suggest you leave before my ten year old gets up and sees you.”

The man nodded. He had the decency to look apologetic as he backed his way to the door. Once the door had shut behind him, Emma stomped into Elsa’s room, closing the door behind her so she could rail on her sister without waking up her son.

“I . . . I . . .don’t know where to start!” she whisper-shouted.

Elsa ducked her head. “I know I’m not supposed to have men over because of Henry.”

“Yeah,” Emma snapped, “we could definitely start there!”

Elsa plopped down to the bed with a sigh that, for Elsa, was overly dramatic. “I just lose my head where that man is concerned, Emma.”

“Obviously,” Emma quipped with a roll of her eyes, “you know you’re not supposed to get involved with your partner.”

Now it was Elsa’s turn to roll her eyes. “Please, Emma, like they ever enforce that rule.”

Emma reached over and grasped her sister’s hand. “It’s just so unlike you. And I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“He’s . . . not like that,” Elsa assured her, her smile wistful. “He’s a good man, and . . . we’re both serious about this. I’ve been dying to tell you since I started feeling this way!”

Emma returned her sister’s smile and accompanying hug. “Well, okay, but if he hurts you, I’ll make the Marines look like a picnic.”

Elsa laughed. “I have no doubt.”

***********************************************

The next morning, Emma had her earbuds in, listening to her and Killian’s piece of music for their Halloween dance. Her mind was already spinning with ideas and bits of choreography, so it wasn’t surprising when she crashed right into someone on her way down the hallway.

“Killian,” she laughed as she yanked out her earbuds, “I’m so sorry! My mind was somewhere else.”

“Uh, yeah, fine.”

Emma blinked in surprise at his muttering; he was normally so eloquent. And his eyes were darting around, and he was red up to the tips of his ears. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Are you okay?”

Killian shook his head, his eyes going wide. “No, actually, I’m not okay. I’m afraid I’ll never unsee what I just walked in on.”

Emma’s brow furrowed, and she glanced over Killian’s shoulder to see Liam Jones come bursting out of one of the studio doors, his hair disheveled and his shirt buttoned crooked.

“Little brother –“

“Not the time to little brother me,” Killian snapped.

“Please, Belle is mortified, and I –“

Killian pressed his lips together in a thin line and then turned his back on Liam. The older Jones went to follow, but Emma stepped in his path, hand raised.

“You know how he gets when he’s upset. Why don’t you just give him some space and then talk to him later?”

Liam frowned, his gaze still on Killian’s back at the far end of the hallway. He then glanced back in the direction he just came from. “I guess I should get back to Belle . . . “

“Yes,” Emma said firmly, giving him a gentle shrug, “you do that.”

As soon as Liam was heading in the opposite direction, Emma took off after Killian at a sprint, calling out his name. She caught up to him at the elevator at the end of the hall.

“Hey,” she panted. Killian turned, a scowl marring his face. She bit her lower lip and asked tentatively, “You eaten yet?”

His scowl melted into a genuine smile. “Are you asking me to breakfast?”

Emma rolled her eyes as she grabbed his arm and hauled him into the elevator. “Always the optimist, aren’t you Jones?”

*************************************************

“ . . . so that’s when you ran into me,” Killian finished up, following his story with a bite of the omelet on his plate. He chewed, swallowed, then continued, “There are better ways to find out your brother is dating someone, believe me.”

“I mean, come on, Killian,” Emma scoffed, “they couldn’t have been in too much of a _compromising position_ as you put it. Belle was expecting Jefferson to arrive to rehearse any minute.”

“Oh no, Swan,” Killian retorted, “it was _very_ compromising. Let’s just say I never knew a barre could be used that way.”

Emma grimaced. “Ouch.” She took a sip of her hot chocolate. “And way to go Belle.”

“Please, Emma, we’re talking about my brother.” Killian pouted so thoroughly, Emma had to laugh.

“Well, it’s official. Your brother scarred you more than my sister scarred me.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose all the way to his hairline. “You caught your sister with someone?”

Emma nodded. “Mhmm, just yesterday. I caught Graham trying to sneak out the front door, and when I burst into Elsa’s room . . . well, let’s just say she was in a _compromising position_.”

Their eyes locked for one heartbeat, then both of them lost it. Emma covered her mouth with her right hand as gales of laughter shook her. She leaned over, grasping Killian’s arm with her left hand. As for Killian, he laughed so hard, dimples formed in both cheeks, and he leaned back in his chair. Soon they were both struggling to breathe and swiping tears from their eyes. Every time they thought they had calmed down, one of them would giggle again, and it would set them both off into a fresh bout of laughter. Patrons at other tables in the cafe’s outdoor patio were glancing their way. Finally, they both calmed down. Emma felt cleansed somehow; she hadn’t laughed like that in years.

Killian picked up his cup of tea and held it out to her. “Well, Swan, here’s to older siblings and their uncanny ability to humiliate us.”

Emma lifted her cup of hot chocolate, clinked her mug with his, and took a big sip, her eyes sparkling at him over the rim. She was so engrossed in the rest of her breakfast with her partner she didn’t notice the photographer across the street.

******************************************************************

By the next morning, Emma had listened to the song for their Halloween dance so many times, she was unconsciously humming it as she toasted her bagel. Elsa raised her eyebrows at her as she entered the kitchen, standing watching Emma with her hands on her hips. The bagel popped up and Emma snatched it quickly, depositing it on a plate.

“What?” she asked her sister irritably as she slathered the bagel with fat free cream cheese.

“You’re a hypocrite, that’s what,” Elsa replied, “lecturing me about Graham while you’re dating Killian.”

Emma almost choked on the bite of bagel she had just taken. “What? I’m not dating Killian!”

“That’s not what TMZ says.”

Elsa waved her phone at Emma, and she snatched it out of her hand. Emma’s mouth dropped open at the images on the celebrity gossip website. They were of her and Killian at breakfast yesterday. In one, they were simply laughing. In another, they were still laughing, but Emma was holding on to Killian’s arm. The final one was of Killian clinking his teacup to her coffee mug, and they were smiling brightly at each other. The caption above read: “Killian Jones and his dancing partner seen getting breakfast. After a night of passion maybe?”

The blood drained from Emma’s face at the headline’s implications, and she braced one hand on the kitchen counter. It wasn’t as if the pictures showed them holding hands or kissing or anything, but even she had to admit it looked like a date. And the fact that it was at breakfast . . .

“Emma?” Elsa said in concern as she stepped closer. “Are you okay?”

Emma took a few slow breaths, then waved her sister off. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“The breakfast was innocent, wasn’t it?”

“Of course it was!” Emma groaned. “But even my own sister believed this trash gossip site.”

“I’m sorry, Emma. I should have known better.” Elsa turned her phone towards her to look at the pictures again. “Although . . . you do look happy. And everyone’s seen the chemistry between you on the dance floor. Are you sure you aren’t falling for him?”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “Even if I was, we’re only partnered together for a few more weeks. Then we’ll be going our separate ways. I can’t afford to make another mistake. Not with Henry to think about.”

Elsa tilted her head to study her for a moment. “Henry?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to think about what’s best for him. I can’t bring a string of men through his life.”

Elsa stepped closer and put both hands on Emma’s shoulders. “What’s best for Henry? Or what’s best for you?”

Emma shrugged out of her sister’s hold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do. That maybe you could see yourself with Killian, and that scares you.”

Emma snatched up her sister’s phone and waved it in her face. “None of  _ this  _ is real. He’s an actor! He’s used to putting on the charm. I won’t fall for it again.”

Emma didn’t wait for Elsa’s reply, turning on her heel as fast as she could and heading back to her bedroom. She shut the door behind her, sagging against it. For some reason, Henry’s words from weeks ago ran through her head. “Not every guy is like my dad. Not every guy is going to leave you.” She sighed and rubbed at her temple. If only she could believe that.

 


	11. Dark Waltz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a long time coming, and I am so excited to finally share it! Though Emma and Killian’s relationship doesn’t escalate in the physical sense yet, some walls still come down emotionally. This chapter is also one of the reasons for the M rating as we find out more of Emma’s back story. 
> 
> Huge thanks as always to my awesome beta @distant-rose, and a shout out to everyone in the CSBB for the discord chat to help me pick the song for this Halloween dance. Especially @katie-dub who recommended “Dark Waltz” by Hayley Westenra. Be sure to check out her CSBB story, Princess of White Chapel, because it is SO good! Actually, everyone in the CSBB put out exceptional work, so be sure to give them all the love and attention they deserve. 
> 
> I can not fully express how much I love the chapter art that @optomisticgirl did for this. It was the first piece she made, and I was just blown away the minute I saw it! So be sure to go over to her blog and like and reblog because she deserves all the love!

**Chapter Eleven: Dark Waltz**

****

Emma was a nervous wreck arriving at the studio to rehearse with Killian. She wasn’t sure how she should handle the gossip. Should she bring it up? Would he? Should she just pretend not to know and ignore it? Would it make things awkward between them? Killian was always flirting with her, trying to get her to open up, but he had never actually asked her out or made a move. She liked things where they were: friendship with innocent flirting. She didn’t want those stupid pictures to mess up the delicate balance they had struck.

But when she stepped off the elevator on the top floor, the sound of loud shouting from the studio at the end of the hall had all thoughts of paparazzi pushed from her mind. She raced down the hall, along with several other celebs and pro dancers towards the room where Jefferson and Belle rehearsed. Emma was shocked to find Robert Gold on the floor, Liam Jones on top of him. Killian was trying to pull his brother off as he threw punches at the older man. Belle was crying and begging Liam to stop. Finally, Jefferson and Graham joined Killian and the three of them managed to pull Liam back and calm him down.  Security then rushed in and ushered Liam, Gold, and Belle out of the room. Jefferson followed along with his partner.

Once they had gone, Emma turned to Killian in shock. “What the hell was that all about?”

Killian ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Apparently Gold has been stalking Belle. Liam came to bring her coffee this morning, and he caught Gold in here with her. Liam said he was touching her somehow, but my brother wasn’t exactly focusing on talking, if you know what I mean.”

Emma’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “Poor Belle.” She reached out and laid a hand on Killian’s arm. He was clearly agitated. “Security will sort it all out, okay? We’ve had crazy shit happen before, believe me.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I just hope Belle’s okay. She has such a kind heart, and she’s good for my brother. I’d hate for him to have to go home so soon over all this.”

Emma just rubbed his arm in silence for a moment. “Do you want to cancel our rehearsals for today? Go make sure Liam’s alright?”

Killian shook his head. “We’ve missed so much rehearsal time already. And aren’t we choreographing the group number this afternoon?”

He had a point, so despite Killian’s obvious worry, they headed back to their usual studio. They jumped right into their waltz, working hard all morning. It seemed to calm Killian to have something to focus on. In the midst of everything, Emma never did bring up the TMZ pictures.

          ******************************************************

Emma and Killian had been teamed up with two athletes for the group dance: figure skater Aurora Briar who danced with Sean Herman, and NFL football player Lance Knight who was partnered with Gwen Pendragon. They had to dance to the song “Somebody That I Used to Know” by Goyte. Gwen had been on the show almost since the beginning, and kind of took charge. Emma wanted to do a vampire themed paso doble, but Gwen decided that they would do a dance patterned more after the song’s music video. So the number ended up being a combination of a tango and a modern piece, and the story was about three widowers looking at the paintings of their deceased wives. The paintings came to life, and the dance ensued.

Killian argued that after Emma’s incredible choreography with “Heart Shaped Box,” she should have more say. But Emma pulled him aside to talk him down.

“This is supposed to be fun,” she hissed at him.

“Your idea was way better, Swan,” he argued, “and the judges still score this dance.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Emma told him, “but Gwen’s been on this show for a really long time. She’s already won the mirror ball twice and gotten three Emmy nominations for her choreography.”

Killian’s jaw clenched. Lance teasingly asked if they were finished kissing in the corner. Emma turned bright red, thinking back to those TMZ pictures they had never discussed.

“Shut up, Lance!” Emma shot back.

Killian deflated and gave Emma a sheepish smile as he scratched behind his ear.

“Sorry, love, I just see so much talent in you. I hate to see it underappreciated.”

Emma felt her heart soar at his words. She had worked so hard for so many years, yet always felt under other people’s shadows. Namely her brother’s and her sister’s. The fact that Killian saw so much in her was both encouraging and terrifying.

They went back to the rest of the group, and Killian behaved himself. He and Aurora were the stronger celebs when it came to picking up the choreography, but Lance was determined, as athletes usually were on the show. Killian provided good balance for the two intense competitors, getting both Aurora and Lance to laugh and enjoy the group dynamic. Emma marveled at his ability to get along with everyone so easily. She wished she had that quality.

The rest of the days leading up to the Halloween episode flew by. They filmed the requisite clips of their team trash-talking the other one and pretending to “spy” on the other group’s rehearsals. In the frenetic pace of everything, those pictures on TMZ never came up. Even the media seemed to lose interest as news that Belle French had put out a restraining order on Robert Gold consumed everyone’s attention. Killian had been worried that Gold would press assault charges against his brother, but when the obsessive content of the man’s texts and emails to Belle became public, the billionaire had other things on his mind. And Emma hated herself for even thinking it, but part of her was glad that the drama with Gold would be at the forefront of everyone’s minds in the studio come Monday afternoon.

          *****************************************************

Emma and Killian, for the first time all season, were scheduled to dance first for the Halloween episode. The set department, like every Halloween, had outdone themselves. Emma had asked for a graveyard, and they had delivered. A black iron gate flanked the dance floor, and in between were an assortment of tombstones. Dry ice sent fog billowing throughout the scene.

“Did they have to use my actual name?” Killian whispered in her ear as she took her place in front of the largest of the tombstones. It read in large, block letters: “Killian Jones.”

Emma just shrugged at him. “Better you than me,” she teased, “now go find your mark.”

He squeezed her hand before walking to the other side of the dance floor and taking his place behind one of the iron gates. The premise of their dance was fairly simple: Emma was a bride widowed on her wedding day. The costume department had made her a gorgeous lace wedding gown that was tattered and stained with blood. Black roses adorned her hair, which was down in a messy mass of curls. Killian, the deceased groom, was dressed in a tux that was in similar shape, and the makeup department had rubbed his skin with white foundation. But the truly gruesome part were the bloody wounds they had added to his face.

“The makeup team sort of knocked the handsome out of me,” he had joked to Emma when she first saw him.

Emma had just shaken her head and laughed. “No make-up artist is _that_ good.” She swore she could see him blush through his heavy foundation.

The video package this week was fairly innocuous. It focused more on the storyline of their dance and silly Halloween jokes than on the actual content of their rehearsals. As it wound to a close, Emma knelt before the tombstone, a black rose in her hand. Camera angles would make it appear to the viewing audience at home that Killian’s ghost appeared out of nowhere to dance with her.

The strains of “Dark Waltz” by Hayley Westenra began to play as Emma set the rose on top of the tombstone. As she always did when performing, Emma reached deep inside of her, to emotions that she normally kept buried. _My character has lost her lover_ , Emma lectured herself internally, _She’s alone and grieving_.

Later, Emma would try to pinpoint exactly what opened the floodgates of pain, but she could never decide if were the first melancholy notes of music or the gentle touch of Killian’s hand on her shoulder. Whatever it was, she danced the waltz with a raw emotion she had never experienced before. It wasn’t just the grieving widow who was desperate to hold onto her lover, it was Emma as well. Killian fed off her energy, and they both grasped for one another in an almost desperate way. It was truly a dark waltz, just like the song said.

At the end, when Emma spun back around to find Killian’s “ghost” suddenly gone, her own choreography called for her to collapse to the ground in grief. It didn’t, however, call for tears. Yet they came anyway. Something about the character being so utterly, completely alone - abandoned forever -tore at Emma in a way she couldn’t explain. Emma choked, attempting to hold the tears at bay, yet they streamed down her face anyway. She put a trembling hand to her mouth, taking deep breaths through her nose, but they wouldn’t stop. Soon, Killian was there, helping her up to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest where her tears wet his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, making no move to steer her towards the judges.

Emma took a long, shaky breath and nodded as the tears finally stopped flowing. She gave Killian a wobbly smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He gave her a gentle smile in return, reaching up to brush her tears away with his knuckles. “Are you sure, love?”

She nodded, her cheeks flooding with heat. She turned towards the judges with shaky steps, Killian’s arm a strong support at her waist. The judges and most of the audience were on their feet. Marco asked her a question – something about her emotions -  and she stumbled over some kind of answer about being swept away by the story. She wasn’t entirely sure due to the roaring in her ears. She barely registered what any of the judges said. Tiana had to deduct points for an illegal lift, but otherwise, the feedback was positive. Upstairs, the roaring in her ears continued as Ashley interviewed them. It mostly consisted of Ashley marveling over Killian’s disturbing makeup. Emma had a feeling her partner was trying to intentionally pull the attention away from her and her emotional outburst because he laughed and teased Ashley for several minutes about his fake bloodied face. Then the scores were announced: two tens and a nine. Emma was still numb as Killian grabbed her in a tight hug, pulling her up off her feet. The second Ashley announced a commercial break, Emma dashed for the backstage area, ripping off her mic as she went.

Emma found a corner behind the plywood sets and lowered herself shakily to the cold concrete floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in the circle of her arms. She felt the black roses atop her head slip down over one ear.

“Please mates,” she heard Killian’s voice behind her, “give her some bloody privacy.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and thinking back to the start of their dance, shuddered at his touch. “I sent the camera guys away,” he told her softly, “so if you want to tell me what happened out there –“

“No,” Emma cut him off, “I don’t.”

“I’d like to help –“

“Killian,” she snapped, “leave me alone. _Please_.”

She heard him release a long sigh, then his hand slipped from her shoulder. It fell silent around her again, and she assumed he had done as she had asked. Then a hand touched her elbow.

“Damn it, Killian, I said –“ Emma’s words died on her lips when she lifted her face to see her brother kneeling beside her. “Oh,” she muttered sheepishly, pushing hair out of her face, “I didn’t know it was you.”

David shifted so he was sitting on the floor next to her, his arm around her. Emma sagged against him, resting her head on his shoulder like she used to when she was a kid. For several minutes, they just sat there. Ariel appeared at the far end of the corridor, her silhouette outlined by the stage lights behind her.

“David, we’ve got a troupe dance in five!”

“Gimme a minute!” he snapped back in irritation. Ariel shrugged and headed back towards the stage.

Emma dug an elbow into her brother’s ribs. “You better get going.”

David made no move to leave. Finally, he leaned over and whispered against her hair. “It was about Neal, wasn’t it?”

Emma stiffened.

“You don’t have to be so tough, Emma,” he told her gently.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Emma groaned, “and the last thing I want to do is talk about this on some therapist’s couch.”

David actually chuckled. “Oh, I think Mom and I have given up on trying to get you to do that. But you know, you’ve got a family of four people. Five, if you count Mary Margaret, which she would. And not one of us would mind being a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear. We may not be a conventional family, but we all love you.”

“David, come on!” It was now Ruby shouting for her brother.

“Go,” she told him, giving him a shove, “before you get fired.”

He kissed the top of her head and left her. Emma yanked the crown of depressing flowers off her head and threw them aside. Black roses. No wonder it brought back memories of Neal.

**************************************************

It was past two in the morning, and Emma couldn’t sleep. And after how the show ended today, she desperately needed to. The results had been a shock to everyone: no one had been eliminated. In retrospect, Emma should have seen it coming. The producers hadn’t given the pros even a hint of what the theme was for the week. Turned out, it was one that always proved dramatic: partner switch week. Instead of dancing with Killian, she had been paired with baseball player August Booth. Emma groaned as she stirred her hot chocolate. Baseball players were notoriously stiff dancers. It could be Leroy all over again. At least the guy was attractive.

Emma shuffled over to the couch and settled down with a heavy quilt draped across her legs. She took a sip of her cocoa as she sagged against the cushions. Retrospection wasn’t one of Emma’s strengths, but she attempted to at least pin down what was bothering her. Knowing she had to dance with a new partner was stressful, so it could be that. Or maybe it was the second dance she would have to do with Killian: a dance off against Elsa and Graham of all couples. They were definitely going for drama next week, that was for sure.

Then Emma remembered her embarrassing meltdown on a live television show. She set down her mug and buried her head beneath the covers. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t sleep because her emotions were too close to the surface. Fear and pain that she had pushed aside for ten years had come bubbling up without warning. Why now?

Emma’s phone, which was lying on the coffee table, lit up with a text message. She snatched it up, curious as to who would be contacting her at such an ungodly hour. She blinked to see a message from Killian.

_I’m outside, but I didn’t want to wake anyone up._

Emma’s brow furrowed in surprise. _Everything okay?_

_I’m actually here because I’m worried YOU aren’t okay._

Emma let out a long breath. She gnawed on her lower lip, considering, then rose from the couch with the quilt still wrapped around herself. She opened the door to see Killian on the other side, his gaze hesitant. She was surprised to see him in a baseball cap.

“How did you even know I would be up?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Lucky guess? You seemed pretty shaken up today.” He shuffled his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And I couldn’t sleep either.”

Emma gave him a teasing smile. “That worried about switching partners?”

He smiled back. “Maybe I am. I’m sure Jasmine is a fine dancer, but there’s only one Emma Swan.”

Emma felt inexplicably shy all of a sudden, standing there in her plaid pajamas with a ratty old quilt draped over her shoulders. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Look, Killian, everyone’s asleep –“

“I know,” he interrupted quickly, “I was wondering if you’d come with me.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Not really in the mood for partying.”

He shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “I had something else in mind. You can even stay in your PJs, and . . . are those wookie slippers?”

Emma chuckled as she shuffled her feet, “A Christmas present from Henry.”

“Ah, I see.” She suddenly realized that Killian himself was in a long sleeve tee and jeans, in addition to the cap. It was the most casual she had ever seen him.  

“Um,” Emma mumbled, letting go of one end of the quilt so she could tuck her wayward hair behind her ears, “I’ll go change. Just wait here.”

Emma quickly threw on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt, then pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. She slipped into a pair of flip flops,  joined Killian outside, and they headed downstairs to his car.

“Never seen you in a hat,” she commented.

He shrugged. “I didn’t want any more pictures getting out.”

Emma felt herself blush as he opened his car door for her. “So you saw those.”

“Aye,” he said as he slid behind the driver’s wheel, “I’ve gotten used to that sort of thing, but I know you’re not. I hope you weren’t too upset by it.”

“I was at first, but nothing came of it, so . . . “ Emma trailed off, unsure what else to say. The pictures honestly seemed like a whole lot of nothing compared to the memories that wouldn’t quit invading her mind since their waltz that afternoon. Silence settled between them, but not an uncomfortable one. Emma leaned her head against the window, looking up at the hazy LA sky.

“I just want you to know,” Killian said softly, “that I’m doing this as a friend. I can tell your heart is troubled, and I’d like to help if I can.”

Emma turned to examine his profile as he concentrated on driving. She pulled her knees to her chest as she took in the sincerity of his expression. Neal had made her cynical, untrusting, and yet here she was driving through LA with an _actor_ of all people at 2:30 in the morning. She closed her eyes and waited for the panic to set in. She was shocked when it never came.

The rest of the twenty minute drive was a quiet one. Finally, Killian pulled up to a marina on the coast where a row of sleek yachts were moored. Emma got out, eager to feel the sea breeze on her face. Killian came to walk beside her, resting his hand at the small of her back to guide her up the pier.

“You have a boat?”

“Aye,” Killian answered, stopping in front of a yacht with gold trim and the name _The Jewel of the Realm_ painted on the side in navy blue, “and here she is.”

“She’s not _The Jolly Roger_?” Emma teased as he helped her on board.

“No, but _J_ ewel of the _R_ ealm,” he replied, emphasizing the first letters, “see what I did there?”

Emma nodded, “I get it.”

“Now, Swan,” Killian told her, guiding her up a ladder to a deck area on top of the yacht, “I want you to relax while I get us out a little ways from shore.”

Emma looked at the pile of cushions and blankets artfully scattered around. She arched a brow at Killian. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Killian reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his expression earnest. “I meant what I said in the car. I find the sea calming. That’s all I want to give you, Emma. A little bit of peace from your troubles. If I can.”

Emma swallowed nervously, taking a quick step back. She hadn’t been expecting him to sidestep such an open invitation to an innuendo. This kind offering of friendship was almost harder to deal with than his flirting. Emma masked her discomfort with a joke. “Well that’s good because I may just fall asleep.”

Killian ducked his head with a soft chuckle. “If so, then my work here is done.”

He turned to go down to the wheel, but Emma stopped him. “Wait. You – you’ll come back up in a few minutes, right?”

He smiled softly. “Aye, love, as soon as I lay anchor.”

Once he had left, Emma sank down to the cushions and drew a blanket around herself. The air here on the water was a bit chillier than in the city. She leaned back, tilting her head up to look at the sky. As they headed farther out to sea, she could see stars twinkling overhead. Killian was right; it was calming. The rocking of the boat and the repetitive whooshing sound of the water caused Emma to drift off for a moment. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the cutting of the engine and a loud splash awakened her. Killian came back up the ladder, smiling softly at her as he settled in next to her. They both lay there, looking up at the clear night sky. Killian said nothing, and Emma appreciated the silence. When she finally spoke, she could only manage a whisper.

“His name was Neal.”

Killian turned to look at her, “Henry’s father?”

Emma nodded, looking away from his gaze and up at the stars instead. “I was sixteen when I met him online. I had a MySpace page, and that’s where we started talking. He said he was eighteen.”  Emma fiddled with the edge of the blanket across her lap. “I was young and stupid, shared too much personal information. He wanted to come to one of my dance competitions.” Emma let out a long, shaky breath. “That’s when I found out he wasn’t eighteen.”

Still Killian didn’t speak, but he brushed his hand against hers. Emma grasped it, threading her fingers with his like they always did on the dance floor.

“He was twenty-five,” Emma continued. She chanced a glance at Killian, but his only reaction was a slight clenching of his jaw. “Anyway, Ingrid never knew he was at that competition. He made me promise not to tell anyone about him. He said people wouldn’t understand. He kissed me and told me I was beautiful. Said that watching me dance was mesmerizing. I convinced myself it was love.”

Killian squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want to,” he told her softly.

“No,” she said in a shaky voice, “I want to. I need to.” The next part was the hardest to tell. “It was always at my competitions that we would meet. This went on for a year. When I was seventeen, he asked me for a dance lesson. So I snuck out of my hotel room where the competition was being held . . .“

Suddenly, Emma felt as if a weight had settled on her chest. She sat up, struggling to breath. Killian sat next to her, rubbing her back soothingly. She put her head between her knees, breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth, the way Ingrid had taught her.

“Did he rape you?” Killian asked gently.

Emma shook her head as she let out a long, cleansing breath. “No, but it was the night I lost my virginity. Like I said, I thought it was love. After that, he . . . changed. He became more demanding of my time, more intrusive, more critical. It became harder and harder to hide things from Ingrid, but Neal kept saying that she would never understand the way he loved me. But Ingrid knew something was wrong. I was skipping rehearsals, my grades were dropping, I was tired all the time. She and I were always fighting. It was the same with David and my sisters. I started pulling away from them. Neal encouraged it. Only now can I see that he wasn’t who he said he was.”

By the time Emma finished, tears were pouring down her face. She turned towards Killian, who let her fall against his chest as ugly sobs tore at her. She hadn’t cried like this in over ten years. His arms tightened around her.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” he told her brokenly. “Does he know about Henry?”

Emma pulled back, rolling her eyes as she scrubbed at her tear-stained cheeks. “Why do you think he disappeared? I told him I was pregnant, and that was it. I couldn’t reach him; not online, not by phone. It was like he took what he wanted from me, and when things got complicated, just like that, he was gone.”

Killian said nothing, putting his arm around her again and drawing her close. She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to the soothing sounds of the water.

“I guess, that dance. . . Neal left me broken. Somehow, I tapped into that pain today.”

Killian still didn’t let her go, and Emma felt herself go limp against him. She had never felt so safe in a man’s arms before. “Did he go to jail?” Killian asked.

“No,” Emma breathed out shakily, “I was so freaked out, it was weeks before I told Ingrid about the baby. By then, I had deleted my MySpace page. I just wanted to erase him from my life. Maybe his name wasn’t even Neal. Who knows?”

“But you didn’t let him stop you from dancing. You are so strong, Emma Swan.”

“And I have Henry,” she added, a wistful smile spreading across her face. “Being a dancer, and young, I was pretty far along before I knew about him. When I saw his little hands and feet on that ultrasound, I knew I could never give him up.”

“Does he know?”

Emma nodded. “I’ve always tried to be honest with him; explaining things as he was old enough to understand them. And he’s had a heck of an internet safety talk, believe me. Multiple times.”

“He’s a tough lad,” Killian said, “like his mother.”

Emma pulled away from Killian’s embrace, brushing at tendrils of hair that had stuck to her wet cheeks. “Ugh. I’m not acting so tough right now.”

“I disagree, Emma,” Killian told her, “I’ve never seen such strength.”


	12. Hey, Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone! I am so excited to share this chapter with you, and it’s kind of fitting that it ends up being a little Christmas present to all my followers because this chapter is one of my favorites. I want to give everyone in the CSBB a special shout out for the very lively debate on Discord about Jamie Dornan’s chest vs. Colin’s and all the pics ;) For science, of course. 
> 
> You all need to be very thankful for my beta @distant-rose for insisting that I actually write the chest-off instead of just alluding to it. Okay, she kind of demanded, but we’re all glad she did, right? You will also get a huge Christmas present from my artist @optomisticgirl in the form of chapter art on tumblr for this. When she sent it to me, my jaw hit the floor. Anyone ask for man candy for Christmas? Just hope that tumblr staff isn’t a grinch. But go check it out and thank her profusely!

Emma had known when she collapsed into bed at five am that she would regret her all-nighter. However, she had underestimated just how much until her alarm went off at seven. She slapped the snooze button without even cracking her eyes open. August’s season with the Angels was over, so his schedule was wide open. He wouldn’t care if she texted and asked if they could push rehearsals back to nine.

          But Henry cared about her sleeping in. And she _did_ try to be up to see him before he got on the bus. She tried to sit down and have breakfast with him too, when her schedule permitted.

          “Mom,” he asked her, cautiously opening the door, “you said you’d make scrambled eggs this morning.”

          Emma groaned as she forced herself to sit up. She rubbed her face and ran her hand through her tangled hair.

          “Are you hungover?” Henry asked.

          “What?” Emma blurted, suddenly much more alert. “You’re ten! What do you know about hangovers?”

          Henry shrugged. “TV. Movies. The internet. I’m not Amish.”

          Emma got up and shuffled across the room. She ruffled Henry’s hair as she walked out her bedroom door. “As long as it’s not from personal experience.”

          “Mom please,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “I’m also not a Kardashian.”

          Emma shook her head as she reached under the cupboard for a frying pan. “You are far too precocious, you know that?”

          He grinned at her as he slid onto the bar stool and folded his arms on top of the kitchen island. “I prefer well-read and up on pop culture.”

          “Have I stumbled into an episode of _Gilmore Girls_?” Elsa asked with an arched brow as she came into the kitchen. She was already dressed in her dance clothes, her hair up in a loose bun.

          Emma cracked a few eggs into a bowl, then grabbed the whisk from the drawer. “I know, right? Those child actors he goes to school with are a bad influence on his verbal skills.”

          Elsa side eyed Emma as she poured a cup of coffee. “Are you okay?”

          “Why do you two think something’s wrong with me?” Emma asked as she poured the eggs into the pan. She grimaced at the irritated tone of her voice.

          “Because you look like crap, Mom.”

          Emma gasped in offense as she glared at her son over her shoulder. “Thanks a lot, kid! I just didn’t sleep much last night. That’s all.”

          “You got pretty emotional during that dance yesterday, too,” Elsa added, her eyes locked on Emma’s face as she sipped her coffee.

          “I’m _fine_ ,” Emma hissed through clenched teeth, “can we please drop it? I’m just...tired.”

          Elsa and Henry exchanged knowing glances as Emma set two plates of eggs down at the island. She ignored those looks as she sat down and shook pepper onto her eggs. She bit the inside of her cheek as she thought about her conversation with Killian out on his boat. Had she really word vomited like that? Had she really _cried_ in his arms? Suddenly, the room felt much too small. She forced down the bite of egg she had just put in her mouth, then set her fork down on her plate.

          “I’m going to take a shower,” she muttered, fleeing the kitchen and the concerned looks from her sister and her son.

          Under the spray of warm water, the reality of what she had done – let her walls down for Killian Jones – washed over her. At least she didn’t have to rehearse with him today. She washed her hair quickly, then turned off the water. As she toweled off, another thought plagued her. The image of Killian dancing for hours and hours this week with the exotically beautiful Jasmine. It bothered her. And the fact that it bothered her made last night seem like an even worse mistake than it already was.

                         ***************************************************

          August was just as laid back as Emma expected him to be over pushing rehearsals back an hour. It gave her time not only to clear her head where Killian was concerned, but also to listen to her and August’s music for their rumba. They were dancing to “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” and Emma had all sorts of ideas for a sixties inspired dance.

          Unfortunately, August was also laid back when it came to their rehearsal. She liked him, they actually hit it off pretty well, but he was constantly wanting to either goof off or take breaks. She’d lost count of how many times he had sat on his butt, saying he was tired or thirsty. She had been spoiled by Killian’s work ethic and single-mindedness.

          She’d also been spoiled by Killian’s ear for music and his naturally smooth movements. August on the other hand, was always half a beat behind and he moved like he was made of wood. At one point, she got frustrated telling him for what felt like the thousandth time to bend his knees. To demonstrate, she came up flush behind him, reached around, and pushed down on his knees.

          “Like this,” she told him, then she rested her hands on his hips, “and now roll with me.”

          Even with her hands guiding him through it, his hips were still jerky and stiff. She swallowed down her irritation, and instead smiled encouragement at his reflection in the mirror. She narrowed her eyes when she saw a flash of dark hair in the crack of the door behind them. Emma whipped her head around to see a glimpse of Jasmine’s ponytail as the door slammed shut. She could also swore she heard Killian mutter, “What the bloody hell was that?”

          Emma rolled her eyes as she turned back to her temporary partner.

          “Was that Jasmine?” August asked.

          Emma waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, and Killian. It’s part of the show to spy on switch week. We’ll have our turn.” She spun her hand in a circular motion. “But for now, let’s work some more on those hips.”

                    ******************************************************

          Just as Emma predicted, the next day the camera crew had her and August sneak down to the room where Jasmine and Killian were rehearsing. Strains of “Killing Me Softly” by The Fugees drifted into the hallway. Since she knew it was coming, Emma had mentally prepared herself for this. At least, she thought she had.

          But when she eased the door open to peek in on her partner, the sight that met her eyes was nothing she could have anticipated. Killian was in a chair, and Jasmine was sitting on his lap, facing him. Then she leaned back as Killian swung her torso in a slow circle. Jasmine ended with her chest flush against Killian’s, her face nestled in the crook of his neck. The whip of her ponytail only made Emma’s blood pressure rise all the more.

          “What the hell is this? A lap dance?” Emma hissed, almost forgetting that they were supposed to be sneaking around.

          But the couple rehearsing were apparently too engrossed in their routine to hear anything. Jasmine took Killian’s hand, pulling him to his feet. He spun her out, then back against him, her back pressed to his front. Jasmine lifted one arm up to drape it over Killian’s neck as she slowly swayed her hips down as she bent her knees.

          “They’re doing a rumba too!” August exclaimed in a loud whisper.

          “Burlesque is more like it,” Emma grumbled.

She had seen enough. She spun abruptly away from the door, where Killian Jones was way too into his new partner to even notice Emma was there. She forgot about August completely as he hurried after her. When would she ever learn? Men were all alike.

          ********************************************************

On Thursday, Emma was finally allowed rehearsal time with Killian so they could prepare their salsa for the dance-off with Elsa and Graham. The cameras were never present for these “extra” routines, so they had the studio to themselves. The video packages this week would focus solely on the partner switch ups, and Emma was eager for the reprieve. Especially since she was royally pissed at her partner. _Trying to be a better man my ass_.

Killian came in with a slightly pensive expression, but he still gave Emma a smile in greeting. She sidestepped his hug with a tilt of her chin and a whip of her ponytail. She fished her cell phone out of her dance bag to pull up their music.

She plunged right in with nothing but detached professionalism. “We’ve been assigned a salsa, and as you know you’re up against Graham. He’s your biggest competitor.”

Killian blinked and shook his head slightly, a crease on his forehead. “Okay. Jumping right into business I see.”

Emma glared at him as she glanced up from her phone. “Of course we’re jumping right in. If we lose this dance off, we could be sent home. We need the extra points. Or did you miss the part where I said that Graham is your biggest competition?”

Killian stepped into her personal space, his blue eyes flashing, “Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure! He matches you in every way: looks, stamina, charm.”

“Chemistry with his partner,” Killian added, voice dropping low, “or is August my competition in that area?”

Emma rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to take a step away from him. “August? You can’t be serious. The guy’s stiff as a board.” Something in Killian’s gaze set her heart thumping, so she quickly stepped around him to hook her phone up to the speaker in the corner. “Cake by the Ocean” by DNCE started playing, and Emma began moving about the room, trying out steps she had brainstormed over the past two days.

“Okay,” Emma said, motioning for Killian to come to her side, “dance off routines need to be kept fairly simple. For the judges we need to show them all the proper salsa steps.”

“My worst dance,” Killian muttered.

“That was week three,” Emma assured him, “you’ve improved, you’ll see. We just need to get that hip action going this time. I’ll help you.”

Killian muttered something under his breath, scratching behind his ear and staring at the floor. Emma let out an exasperated breath.

“What is it Jones?”

Killian flashed her a big, cheesy smile. “Nothing, Swan. Nothing at all.”

Emma ignored his attitude and took him through the choreography. “Now here,” Emma said after a dip, “I’ll walk around behind you, and take your shirt off.”

“What!”

“You’ll wear an open shirt, and as I come around behind you,” Emma explained again, “I’ll pull it off your shoulders.”

“Hell no,” Killian told her firmly.

Emma massaged her brow. “You’re an actor! You can’t tell me you’ve never taken off your shirt for a role before.”

“Well, yes, I have but –“

“No buts,” Emma snapped, “the viewers at home will be live voting, and if you think Graham won’t be taking his shirt off, you’re dreaming.”

This time, it was Emma who had stomped into his personal space. Killian glared down at her. “I have a say in this, and the answer is no.”

Rage welled up in Emma at his stubbornness. “Oh, you won’t take your shirt off, but you’ll gladly let Jasmine give you a lap dance!”

“It wasn’t a lap dance, it was a rumba!”

“It sure as hell _looked_ like a lap dance!”

“Well what about you bumping and grinding with August!” Killian shouted back.

Emma shook her head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you! You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around him.”

Emma rolled her eyes again. “I was trying to show him how to bend his knees and roll his hips. Which, if you must know, was a hopeless cause.”

Killian tilted his head, his brow creasing further. “You don’t like dancing with August?”

Emma pushed stray hairs out of her face. “No, you dork!”

His posture deflated almost instantly. “I miss dancing with you, Emma. Jasmine is talented, but it just isn’t the same.”

Emma bit her lower lip, feeling a bit of her own anger draining away. “But you two looked so... so... into each other.”

That one irritating strand of hair fell across Emma’s forehead again, and Killian gave her a wistful smile as he reached out and brushed it back for her. “It’s called acting, Emma. Like you on _So You Think You Can Dance_ when you did that Romeo and Juliet routine? You _kissed_ that guy, didn’t you?”

Emma smiled a bit sheepishly. “I guess you have a point. But why are you being so stubborn about taking off your shirt?”

Killian turned a bit red and rubbed the back of his neck. “As you may have noticed, Swan, I’m . . . hairy.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “So?”

His eyes widened. “So I’d like to keep it that way. But I’ve noticed all the male pros are waxed, and –“

Emma couldn’t help it, she started to laugh. Killian gave her a wounded look, which only made her laugh more. “Oh Killian,” she finally gasped, patting the front of his t-shirt, “I would _never_ wax the chest of Captain Hook. Your fans would hunt me down for sure.”

Killian’s face finally relaxed and he gave her his first genuine smile of the day. “Good.” He shrugged abashedly, “Sorry I got a little freaked out.”

Emma shook her head, relief flooding her that their fight was over. “We do need to practice it, though. It seems simple, but it takes repetition to do it smoothly.” She motioned with her head to a box she had set down in the corner. “I brought in some practice shirts.”

Killian followed her. She pulled out a few shirts, checking the sizes. She chose a black one and shook it out, holding it up in front of him. “I think this is your size. Take off your shirt and put this on.”

In retrospect, she should have realized the whole thing was a bad idea. But she had been around bare chested men in the dance world since her teens, and thought she was used to it. But when Killian pulled his shirt over his head, her mouth suddenly went dry. Maybe it was all that chest hair, maybe it was the rippling of muscles that were in some way she couldn’t describe different than a dancer’s physique. Maybe it was how low his sweatpants hung on his hips. Whatever it was, Emma suddenly felt like every rational thought had fled her mind. She literally couldn’t speak and just shoved the shirt into his arms. She watched, fascinated as the muscles in his shoulders bulged as he slid first one arm then another into the sleeves. He adjusted the collar of the shirt so that it stood straight up, and shrugged his shoulders. She thought once it was on, he would look less appealing and she could get her brain back. She was wrong. He looked even better with the completely open shirt, his hair disheveled from pulling the t-shirt over his head.

“How do I look?” he asked.

Her brain obviously was still checked out from the rest of her body because the next thing she knew, she was grabbing him by the edges of the open shirt and hauling him close. Emma smashed her lips into his roughly at first, but he softened beneath the kiss almost immediately. She opened her mouth, and he opened his, and the kiss became rough again. And hungry, so hungry. It was like she couldn’t get enough of him. Her hand slid up his collarbone and then behind his neck, her fingers tickling the ends of his hair. He cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer as his tongue swiped against hers, his fingers tangling in her ponytail.

When they parted, he chased her lips, and Emma almost dived back in for more, but she stumbled backwards, grasping at his shirt again to steady herself. His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen and red. She probably looked no better.

“That was - ,” he gasped, breathless.

“A one-time thing,” Emma finished for him quickly, giving him a slight shove, “I – don’t know why I did that.”

Killian blinked, his pupils still blown wide. Emma glanced away.

“Let’s, um . . . take a five minute break,” she muttered, heading quickly for the door.

“As you wish,” he said softly to her retreating form.

Emma couldn’t help the smile that flitted across her still wet lips.

          *****************************************************

“I kissed him.”

Emma had to give it to Mary Margaret, she took the outburst well. Especially considering it was eleven o’clock and she was supposed to be relieved of babysitting duties by Elsa an hour ago. Instead, without so much as an eyebrow lift, Mary Margaret calmly began preparing hot chocolate as Emma groaned and collapsed on the bar stool at the kitchen island.

“Now who did you kiss?” the brunette asked carefully as she measured milk into a saucepan. Mary Margaret always doctored Emma’s powdered stuff with real hot milk. Emma’s sister-in-law was the most nurturing woman she had known since Ingrid.

“Killian!” Emma exclaimed, then bit her lip as she glanced nervously behind her at the door to Henry’s room. She leaned forward and repeated, this time in a whisper, “Killian. I kissed Killian. My partner.”

Mary Margaret chuckled. “I know who he is, Emma.” She ladled the hot milk into two mugs, then mixed in the chocolate powder. Then she sat down on the stool next to Emma, sliding her mug over to her.

“So,” Mary Margaret said, cupping her own mug in both hands, “did it mean anything?” She said it casually, blowing on her hot beverage as she regarded Emma with patient eyes.

“No! Of course not . . .” Emma trailed off as she fiddled with the handle of her mug.

“Why did you kiss him then?” Mary Margaret asked before taking a small sip of her cocoa.

The question was an innocent one, but it made Emma rise up in defense anyway. “I don’t know! His shirt was off, and he looked really good, and we’d just had a fight –“

“Wait? Why was his shirt off?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You know the show, Mary Margaret. We have a salsa dance off with Elsa and Graham.”

“Ah,” Mary Margaret nodded with a sparkle in her eyes, “now that’s some man candy I gotta see.”

Her joke made them both laugh, breaking the tension that held Emma in its grip. She massaged her forehead. “I don’t know what I was thinking, Mary Margaret.”

Her sister-in-law shrugged. “Maybe that’s the point. You weren’t thinking. You were just feeling.”

“You can say that again,” Emma muttered as she took a sip of her cocoa.

“What was the fight about?”

“Switch up week,” Emma sighed.

“Oh really?” Mary Margaret asked, her eyes widening slightly.

“What?” Emma huffed defensively. “What’s that look?”

Mary Margaret gave her a sly smile. “It’s just . . . David and I fought too when we had to switch partners.”

Emma lifted her hand. “No. Oh no, no, no. I’m not . . . I mean Killian and I aren’t . . . “

Mary Margaret reached out and rested a hand atop Emma’s. “Listen. That wall of yours? I understand why it’s there, we all do. What happened with Neal would make it hard for anyone to trust again. But even though that wall may keep out pain, it can also keep out love. And love is so worth the risk, Emma.”

Silence fell between the two women as Emma finished her hot chocolate, thoughts tumbling through her brain. Mary Margaret made it all sound so easy. Emma knew better. She wasn’t David with his infernal, unwavering optimism. Nor was she Mary Margaret, with an unscathed heart. What the two of them had just wasn’t in the cards for her, so why set herself up for disappointment?

          ****************************************************

It felt strange to be by August’s side instead of Killian’s for the live show. She had new appreciation for Jasmine’s creativity and choreography as she basically danced around a stiff August when they were introduced. Every season, there was a celebrity who stuck around way longer than they should, and for some reason this season it was August. He apparently had a huge fan base in his sport, particularly with women. That was the only explanation for why he was still here.

Emma tamped down her jealousy as Jasmine and Killian did perfectly synced body rolls for their intro, Jasmine shimmying with her arms above her head. She had to be thrilled to have a partner who could actually dance, even If it was only for one week. Emma couldn’t really blame her for being so enthusiastic.

After the opening intros, Emma and August headed up to the balcony with the rest of the cast while Jasmine and Killian stayed on the dance floor. They were dancing first. Emma stood against the railing of the balcony to watch them, knowing that the cameras would cut to her immediately before and immediately after the routine. No matter what emotions churned up in her, Emma had to play the part of a supportive partner cheering on her celeb. She took a deep breath and released it slowly as she clutched the railing in a white-knuckled grip.

Ashley and Marco said a few words, emphasizing the drama that was about to unfold for partner switch week, and reminding the television audience to get ready to live vote for the dance offs. Then they segued into Killian being partnered with Jasmine, and the video package of their rehearsals began to play.

Emma wasn’t surprised when it opened with Killian smiling charmingly and greeting Jasmine with a hug. He always had that way about him. Neither was she surprised when Jasmine stated in an interview that she was looking forward to working with him. Who wouldn’t?

The rest of the package, however, was a complete shock. At first, it was subtle. Killian did a turn differently than Jasmine wanted him to, and he apologized, stating that Emma always had him turn counter-clockwise to her. But then, a pattern seemed to emerge. The footage cut to another interview with Jasmine.

“Killian’s a great dancer with natural rhythm,” she said, “but he’s got to trust me. He keeps comparing my choreography and methods to Emma’s.” The video did an extreme close up. “If he says Emma one more time, I’ll scream.”

The studio audience chuckled at Jasmine’s statements, and then the video showed edited footage of Killian saying “Emma” over and over again. Emma bit her lip to keep from smiling even as a blush crept up her neck. Then the video showed Jasmine put her hands to Killian’s chest in rehearsals.

“Will you concentrate if we go check on Emma and August?” she asked him.

Emma knew what was coming now, of course. This was the requisite “let’s spy on our partners” portion. Sure enough, Jasmine and Killian made a huge, exaggerated show of tiptoeing down the hallway to sneak a peek of Emma and August’s rehearsal. It turned out that Emma had indeed heard Killian mutter, “What the bloody hell is that?” when he saw her behind August to try and help him bend his knees more. The audience laughed again as Killian and Jasmine raced back down the hall before they could get caught, and laughed even louder when Killian blustered and fussed about how Emma “had her hands all over her new partner.”

Emma could no longer keep her smile off her face now. She knew it was petty, but she was relieved to know that Killian had missed her just as much as she had missed him. Seeing the video package actually helped her to watch Killian’s rumba with Jasmine and see it as nothing more than a performance. And Killian did an amazing job. When it was over, she didn’t have to fake her loud cheers. Neither did she have to fake her enthusiastic hug when he and Jasmine came up to the balcony and received their scores of two tens and a nine. When Ashley asked how she felt about the job Jasmine did with Killian, Emma was completely sincere in praising the other pro.

“Jasmine did a fantastic job. She really tapped into Killian’s strengths, and I couldn’t be more proud of him.”

It wasn’t until she took her position on the dance floor with August two dances later that Emma remembered the contents of her own video package. How did her rehearsals with the baseball player come across? Had she been her usual prickly self, or had she successfully tamped down her irritation?

Emma was relieved to see footage of her smiling, even laughing with August. I mean, they _had_ gotten along. And since August was overall a nice guy, Emma came across as encouraging and patient as he struggled with some of the choreography. The only time she seemed surly was when August got lazy. In her interview she said, “August and I have a lot of fun together, but he tends to take a _lot_ of breaks. I don’t know how Jasmine motivates him because I’m really getting a little frustrated.”

Emma released a relieved breath at her diplomatic complaint. The audience even chuckled when Emma came up and nudged August with her toe where he lay sprawled on the floor with a towel over his face. But the audience really laughed when the video showed Emma and August spying on Killian and Jasmine. A blush filled Emma’s face as she watched the footage of her pissed off self sputtering about lap dances.

August leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Don’t be too embarrassed. Killian was jealous too.”

Emma whipped her head around, her jaw dropping. “I . . . I . . .”

“And now,” the announcer’s voice interrupted Emma’s stuttering, “dancing the rumba, August Booth and his partner Emma.”

Emma danced her rumba in a kind of daze, not fully connecting with her stiff partner. She smiled and made eye contact with August, she threw her body into the movements, but the connection just wasn’t there. This felt completely different from dancing with Killian. She wondered if the judges and the audience could pick up on it too.

Surprisingly, the judges praised Emma’s choreography for bringing out August’s sexy side. They said his knees were more bent and fluid than they had been all season. He didn’t have the natural rhythm that the rest of his competition did, but switching partners had obviously helped him grow. Emma was honestly a bit shocked at the praise, and as she headed up to the balcony, she worried that Jasmine’s feelings would be hurt. Instead, the other woman embraced her in a tight hug after giving one to August. After August got a string of straight sevens – his second highest score of the season – Jasmine jumped up and down with enthusiasm. Then she praised Emma to Ashley.

“I am so thankful to Emma. She did an amazing job. Sometimes you just need to look at something with fresh eyes, and she did that for August. I am so proud.” Then Jasmine threw one arm around August and another around Emma.

When they cut for commercial, Emma sagged against one of the couches in the back corner of the balcony. Her mind was whirling so fast, she wasn’t sure what to think or how to feel.

“You’re bloody brilliant Swan.”

Emma looked up to see Killian leaning against the wall next to her. She gave him a slightly dazed smile. “Thanks . . . I guess.”

He arched a brow at her. “You don’t seem excited.”

“I guess I just . . . it didn’t feel as great as everyone thinks it was.”

He reached down and patted her knee gently. “I missed dancing with you, too.”

Without another word, he walked away. Emma collapsed against the pillows of the couch, unable to keep her mind from flitting to the feel of his hands around her waist, his blue eyes piercing hers, his breath fanning against her collarbone. And that was just when they danced together. His kiss was something else entirely.

Despite Emma’s whirling thoughts, she couldn’t escape the salsa dance off. She was quickly ushered into wardrobe, then back into hair and makeup to transform her 1950s updo to soft and sultry curls for the Latin dance. Soon, her thoughts from earlier where reality, Killian’s hands at her waist, her palms pressed to his bare chest which was on display thanks to his completely unbuttoned shirt.

“Glad to be back in your capable hands,” he said to her, squeezing her lightly.

She took a risk and looked up into his eyes, which sparkled with mirth. He wiggled both brows, and she laughed, expelling a long breath. She wasn’t sure when things had shifted, but somewhere along the way, his flirting had become a way to ease the tension.

Emma gave him a tiny shove, “That’s right, so you better shake those hips, or there will be consequences.”

“I certainly hope so,” he smoothly replied with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re flirting with a woman who looks like a giant cone of rainbow colored cotton candy.” She glanced over at her sister, who was having a whispered conversation with Graham. Her costume and Elsa’s were similar; both had swirls of rainbow colored pastels on the bodice of their dresses, and both had half skirts that looked like a pile of fluff resting on their rear ends. The only difference was that Emma’s pile of fluff was yellow while Elsa’s was blue. The guys were dressed similarly too, with dark green pants and unbuttoned gauzy shirts of marbled color. Killian’s blue and white, Graham’s light green and white.

The opening beats of the song began, and Killian grasped her leg, yanking her flush against him. It was just as they had rehearsed, but Emma almost audibly gasped at the heat of his touch and the intensity of his gaze. She didn’t miss a beat, though, whipping her torso backwards. Killian followed the movement, swinging her around and then up against his chest again. She could feel the thud of his heart beating against her own.

“That’s some damn sexy cotton candy, then,” he rasped in her ear.

Emma felt heat flood through her as his breath puffed hot against her neck. He spun her around, and they rocked their hips in perfect unison, her back to his front. The crowd went crazy, but from the corner of her eye, Emma saw it wasn’t for them. Graham had removed his shirt, swinging it around his head, and then tossing it to the crowd before grasping Elsa’s waist again.

Emma locked eyes with Killian as he spun her out from him. She raised both eyebrows, clearly telling him, “told you so.” She strutted towards him, then ran her hands up his chest when she reached him. Her hands traced his shoulder blades as she shimmied around him, yanking the shirt off as she went. The studio audience once again completely lost it. Emma winked at Killian before they went into their side by side salsa steps. Then Killian took her hand again, swinging her up into a lift. He caught her perfectly, cradled against his chest, then put her easily on her feet. For the rest of the minute and a half long dance, the crowd faded away, and it was just her and Killian. She didn’t have to think, didn’t have to coach him through it. They just danced.

Emma realized when she was really swept away by the dance, she stopped caring about the competition or how complicated things had become between the two of them. Everything melted away, and all she heard or could think about was the music. If only the rest of life could be so simple.


	13. Hook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year's Eve, everyone! Thanks as always to the best beta ever, @distant-rose. I encourage you to go read all of her own fics because she's fantastic. I'll also add the wonderful chapter art for this one by @optomisticgirl once she posts it on tumblr. Please check out her blog to see all her art (not just for this story) as well as her own fanfics which are some of my favs. Also click on the link above to the Captain Swan Big Bang collection if you haven't already. There were so many amazing fics written for this event; we are a blessed fandom!

Emma reached down to pet Graham’s service dog as she headed to the kitchen for another helping of orange chicken from the take out containers. Elsa and Graham had graciously allowed Emma and Henry to join them for their impromptu celebration for getting voted off in today’s eliminations.

          “I still can’t believe we’re celebrating,” Emma commented as she settled back down on the couch.

          Elsa turned to Graham, who had her tucked against his side, his hand resting on her hip. She traced his jaw and smiled. “We don’t have to hide that we’re together anymore,” she said, and Graham pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then Elsa turned to Emma. “Besides, now we don’t have to compete against you and Killian in the semi-finals. Now I can just cheer on my little sister.”

          “You and Jones are going to win,” Graham told her confidently as he took a sip of his beer.

          Emma sighed as she speared a piece of chicken with her chopsticks. “I hope so.”

          “He sure beat me in that dance off,” Graham chuckled.

          Elsa pressed her face against Graham’s chest as a blush stained her cheeks. Emma’s own face burned. The show had only aired on the east coast a couple of hours ago, and already the salsa dance-off between the two couples was being dubbed “The Chest-Off.” It already had thousands of views on YouTube, and everyone was in a heated discussion on which was hotter: chest hair or a smooth chest? While they were dancing, Emma and Elsa couldn’t see the meter recording the live votes, but when they watched the footage later, they laughed hysterically as the little bar at the bottom of the screen spiked wildly in Graham’s direction as soon as he took his shirt off. But then Killian had taken off his, and the meter surged in the opposite direction. In the end, the vote had been clear: Killian’s chest hair had won the salsa. There was no way of knowing, of course, if losing those extra points had cost Graham the semi-finals or not, but it had certainly helped Emma and Killian. The other couple voted off had been August and Jasmine. Emma tried to feel bad for her temporary partner, and when she couldn’t, she felt slightly guilty.

          “It’s down to two athletes, Killian, and Belle,” Elsa commented as she grabbed a fortune cookie and cracked it open.

          “Yeah, it’s shaping up to be a great end to the season,” Emma said.

          “Aw, look,” Elsa gushed, showing Graham the tiny slip of paper from her cookie, “it says _The end is sometimes really the beginning_. Isn’t that perfect for today?”

          Graham’s face softened. “It’s perfect for _us_. For a while, it felt like everything that mattered to me was ending, but it all led me right here. To you.”

          Graham then cupped Elsa’s face and gave her a soft kiss.

          “Ugh,” Henry complained, pretending to gag on an eggroll, “kid in the room, remember?”

          Graham and Elsa both chuckled. “Sorry,” Graham apologized, but he didn’t let go of Emma’s sister, simply tucking her head beneath his chin and tugging her a bit closer. Elsa softened against him with a contented smile on her face.

          As she watched them, Emma tried to keep her mind from dwelling on a certain blue-eyed Brit with soft lips and strong hands. She stared into her plate of Chinese food, willing her blood to cool and her mind to cease replaying that kiss. It’s not like it would lead to the same place Elsa found herself in with Graham. Killian wasn’t a retired Marine with multiple options before him. He was an actor. How many times had she reminded herself of that fact? The thing was, since there kiss it was getting harder and harder to remember.

                    *********************************************************

          Emma hadn’t even made her way out of bed yet the next morning when her phone dinged that she had a text message. It was from Killian.

          _Can we meet, Swan? Away from the cameras?_

Emma worried her lower lip as she contemplated his request. She had a feeling she knew what he wanted to talk about, and while it was a conversation she really didn’t want to have, she also didn’t want to risk the situation blowing up in their faces while the cameras rolled.

          _Sure. Same cafe as last time? Just not outside this time._

          She hit send, and Killian quickly sent back a reply.

          _Ha ha, definitely no. I’ll be in a ball cap again just to be safe._

Emma texted back with a time for him to meet her then slipped out of bed. She skipped a shower, figuring it was pointless anyway since she’d just get sweaty at rehearsals. She put her messy hair in a ponytail, then shoved it into an Angels baseball cap that August had given her. She brushed a kiss across the cheek of a bleary-eyed Henry as he shuffled from his room.

          “I thought you didn’t have to practice as early now that _Neverland’s_ on hiatus,” her son grumbled.

          “I know, and starting tomorrow morning I’ll make you breakfast every day till New Year’s, okay kid?”

          He shrugged his acceptance as he grabbed a box of cereal from the pantry, and Emma dashed out the door. She knew he was responsible enough to catch the bus on time, and Elsa was still home. Still, mommy guilt sometimes felt like her constant companion. Even with all the help from her siblings and Mary Margaret, being a single mom wasn’t easy. She pushed such thoughts from her mind as she made her way through LA traffic. She was early enough that rush hour hadn’t begun yet, but the streets were still a bit congested. In the end, she was ten minutes late meeting Killian.

          Emma kept her sunglasses on just in case as she stepped into the cafe. She wouldn’t have recognized Killian if not for the bright blue eyes shining from under the brim of his Dodgers baseball cap. He was wearing a plain gray hoodie that seemed to be his standard uniform when trying to go unrecognized.

His phone was pressed to his ear, but when Emma reached the table, he smiled up at her. “Um, sorry Robin, but I’ve got to go. Emma’s here,” he paused, giving Emma an apologetic look for being on his phone. “Aye, mate, I look forward to it. . . I will . . . bye.”

As Emma sat down, she noted the way his smile reached his eyes, crinkling the skin around them. “Must be good news.”

“It is,” Killian replied, excitement coloring his voice. They were interrupted by a waitress taking their order, but as soon as she left, Killian continued eagerly. “You know the movie musical _The Greatest Showman_ , right?”

Emma nodded with a shrug, “Who doesn’t?”

“Well, the same producers are developing a new movie musical about the rise of the punk music scene in London in the 70s. They want me for the lead.”

Emma smiled broadly. “That’s great!”

He ducked his head with that bashful smile of his that she never would have expected him capable of three months ago. “I have you to thank,” he told her.

Emma shook her head. “No, Killian. All I did was teach you some dance steps. You’re the one who proved to the world that you’re a triple threat. So who’s the choreographer?”

The waitress brought their orders out, and Emma stirred the whipped cream and cinnamon into her hot chocolate as she watched Killian take a bite of his breakfast sandwich before answering. When he did, his eyes were bright with excitement.

“Tabatha and Napoleon D’Umo.”

Emma almost knocked her hot chocolate over as her hands flew to her mouth. “Nappy Tabs? Seriously?! I’m so jealous. I never got to work with them on _So You Think You Can Dance_.”

Killian’s grin was broad as he took in her reaction. “Their lyrical hip hop is the style they’re going for in the film.”

“Oh, I’m so jealous,” Emma sighed as she broke apart her blueberry muffin and popped a bite in her mouth. “Put in a word for me? I sing you know.”

“That’s right,” Killian nodded, “you did Broadway.”

“Just in the corp. It was a steadier life for Henry than touring the ballroom circuit. Ingrid and Anna went with me to help with Henry. I missed Elsa and David, especially David, but I still got to dance and Ingrid kept working with me to get me back in competition shape.” Emma shook her head as she stared into her mug of cocoa. “Why am I babbling on about me? This is great news for you!”

“Aye. The casting director and producers want to meet me in London after the show wraps.”

Emma felt her stomach drop. “London?”

Killian eyed her with that intense look of his. “They want actual London landmarks from that time in the film. Sort of like how LA was a character in _La La Land_.”

Emma bit her lip, her eyes darting away from Killian’s face. “London . . . “

Killian cleared his throat. “But that’s not why I asked you to meet me. Emma –“

“Is this about Liam leaving?” Emma cut him off, locking her eyes on his again.

Killian arched one brow and gave her a half smile. “No, it’s not that either. I knew he’d have to go back home sooner or later. He’s got a job, you know. Pretty brunette bookworms can’t distract him from that reality.”

Emma laughed nervously. “Right . . .”

Killian leaned across the table. “And you’re changing the subject.”

Emma swallowed hard and fiddled with the napkin in her hand. “What subject?”

“The kiss, Emma.”

Emma scoffed even as heat crept up her neck. “Why? It was _just_ a kiss.”

“Not for me,” he said, voice laced with conviction. He reached across the table and stilled the nervous motion of her hands by covering them with his. “Emma, when I was just starting in the industry, I was so focused on my career that I didn’t take the time to pursue any relationships. Then I got the role on _Neverland_ , and I got carried away with partying and all the attention from women. Until one day I realized those women were attracted to my fame, not me. I never thought I’d actually find someone I could truly love . . . until I met you.”

Emma pulled her hands away abruptly and stared at her lap. She wasn’t sure what she could say to any of that.

Killian added in almost a whisper, “That’s what the kiss revealed.”

Emma lifted her head finally, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. “You just told me you’ll be moving to London, Killian.”

“But we –“

“No,” Emma cut him off, standing abruptly. She shook her head. “Please don’t make empty promises, Killian. You won’t keep them, believe me.”

Killian just looked at her silently for a moment. Then he gave one nod of his head; a nod of acceptance. “Okay, Emma. I won’t push it. Whatever we become, if anything, it’s up to you just as much as it is me.” He reached out and took her hand. “Just don’t leave. We’re still partners. And . . . friends? I hope?”

Emma gave him a tentative smile as she sat back down at the table. She squeezed his hand before releasing it. “Yes, definitely friends.”

She picked up her fork, slightly dazed when Killian smoothly changed the subject and started to tell her how he decided to grow his hair long at seventeen, much to Liam’s horror. She laughed between bites of her omelet, the tension from moments ago melting away. His patience with her walls meant more to her than she cared to admit. She honestly didn’t know that there were men out there who would actually take “no” for an answer.

          *******************************************************

“What’s with the box?” Killian asked when he entered the studio. Emma had asked him to wait ten minutes at the café so they wouldn’t show up on set at the same time. The cameras were already rolling.

Emma smiled brightly at him and accepted his casual hug despite the electricity she felt every time he touched her. They had to dance together this week, after all, and this was being recorded.

“I don’t know what’s in the box,” she told him honestly. “We can’t open it until we look at the input from fans on Twitter. It’s people’s choice week. The viewers get to pick what we dance.”

Emma sat cross legged on the floor and powered up her laptop. Killian plopped down next to her, scooting close so he could see the screen. His leg was pressed against her knee, and she felt like a ridiculous teenager as her pounding heart reacted to it. His head was inclined towards her, too, and she kept her eyes glued to the device in her hands lest she turn her head and tumble headlong into those blue eyes of his.

“Okay,” Emma said as she scrolled through the tweets the producers had sent her, “this one says, _With Neverland on hiatus, I’m going through withdrawal. I want to see Captain Hook on the dance floor!_ And this fan wants you to dance to the theme from _Neverland_.”

Killian leaned closer as he read the next tweet. “ _I want to see him dance with the hook!_ ” He turned to face her, and Emma was forced to meet his gaze. “Doesn’t this all go against the very reason I did the show? To help people see me as _more_ than Hook?”

Emma smiled softly at him. “You _have_ proven that. But your fans love your show and the character you created.” She bit her lip to stop from adding that the show was ending. That wasn’t public knowledge yet, though rumors were all over the internet. Emma had a feeling those rumors were fueling the tweets a little.

Killian rubbed his jaw and sighed. “Okay. So what’s the dance style then?”

Emma leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and thinking. In the past, the audience voted on the song, style, and theme. The result had sometimes been disastrous when the three didn’t complement one another. So this year they were leaving the dance style up to the pros.

“Well, I think I’ll have to listen to the _Neverland_ score again before I make that decision.” She went to her dance bag and pulled out her phone and her earbuds. She pulled up the music and closed her eyes as the notes flowed through her. Her whole life, even before she was formally trained, she imagined dances in her head whenever she heard music. The light and playful melody of the _Neverland_ score was no different. She smiled as she opened her eyes. “A quick step, definitely.”

Killian was looking at her with such intensity, it almost put her on edge. A soft smile filled his face. “Dance and music are in your blood, aren’t they, Swan?”

Emma turned quickly as she yanked her ear buds out and stuffed them back in her bag. It was disconcerting the way he read her sometimes. She cleared her throat as she pulled her iPhone speakers out and set them up.

“Well, let’s get started.”

“As you wish.”

          *********************************************************

The box, naturally, had contained Killian’s hook and brace that he wore on _Neverland_. Three hooks, actually. Killian explained it to her; one was rubber and used for stunts so no one got hurt accidentally. The second was a light aluminum hook with a blunted point that he wore for the majority of scenes, and the last one was made of actual steel and had a real, sharp tip. It was used for close ups or when the script called for him to hit or cut something with the hook. The last one, the sharp one, clearly couldn’t be used for their dance. The rubber one seemed like the most logical choice, but when they started working on the routine, it kept bending as they moved. Even to a TV audience, it would be obvious that it was fake.

Killian frowned. “Stunts are always edited so you don’t notice that it’s rubber. I guess I didn’t think of that.” He rubbed at the straps underneath his t-shirt. “I’m used to wearing that heavy leather duster and sweating under these straps, but dancing in this is giving me blisters. I hope I still have hair on my chest after this is over.”

“You better,” Emma laughed.

“Why Swan,” Killian grinned, “are you saying you like my chest hair?”

Emma’s face burned even as she swatted him with the back of her hand and rolled her eyes. He’d had to remove his shirt to put the brace on, and the sight of _that_ again hadn’t exactly made the “just friends” thing easy to remember.

Emma let out a long breath as she pushed wisps of hair out of her face. “I guess we’ll have to try the aluminum hook then. The end is blunted, right?”

“Aye,” he told her as he unscrewed the rubber one from the end of his brace, “I won’t hurt you, love.”

He winked at that, and Emma’s traitorous blushing started again. What was her problem? He’d been flirting with her from day one. She should be used to it by now.

Unfortunately, switching hooks didn’t help. If anything, Emma was struggling even more with the choreography. She would have Killian turn a certain direction, but when she went to take his hand, the hook was there instead. She felt like a complete novice as she struggled to figure out turns and holds when Killian, essentially, only had one hand. The longer she struggled, the more frustrated she became.

“Fuck this!” she growled, yanking at her ponytail in frustration as she paced to the far corner of the room. Well, the editing room would have fun bleeping out all her swearing this week.

“Hey,” Killian said gently as he came up behind her. He rested his hand, and his hook, on her shoulders. He was obviously used to the prop that he spent the majority of his days wearing. But _Emma_ wasn’t used to it. “We’ll figure this out, Emma. The way we always do . . . together.”

Emma, who had also been trying so hard all day to hold back from his casual affections, gave up and leaned back against him. He wrapped both arms around her, dropping his face to the crook of her neck. The cool metal of his hook felt odd against her hip.

“Can we call it a day?” she asked wearily.

“Sure,” he mumbled against her hair. Was that a kiss he just brushed to the side of her head?

When they parted ways, Emma wasn’t sure what had her shaken more: her struggles to choreograph this routine, or how natural it had become to be in Killian’s arms.

          *******************************************************

The next morning, Emma had only just greeted Killian when her phone buzzed with a message from Regina. Emma’s brow furrowed as she read it.

“Something wrong, Swan?”

Emma shook her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just . . . “ she looked up at Killian, then glanced over his shoulder at the camera crew, “they’re sending someone to help us choreograph around the hook?”

Killian’s confused expression mirrored her own. “Who could that be?”

“I don’t know, I mean –“ Emma was interrupted by a knock at the studio door. She glanced at the camera crew again, then at Killian, who shrugged. “Come in?”

The door was flung open and a petite, energetic blonde burst into the room. Rose; Killian’s co-star. He laughed with delight and rushed to embrace her.

“Emma!” Rose squealed, pulling her into an eager hug. When she let her go, Rose winked at Killian. “So, I hear you’re having trouble working around this guy’s hook.”

Emma swallowed down the sudden irritation that had welled up within her. The cameras were rolling, so she plastered on a smile. “Yeah, I’m not used to having to choreograph with just his right hand.”

“Why don’t you show me?” Rose asked eagerly, motioning with her hands for Emma and Killian to partner up.

Emma nodded and stepped into Killian’s hold. She counted out the beats as they went into the opening sequence of the syncopated choreography. The quickstep’s quick-quick-slow rhythm was difficult enough, but when they went into the quarter turn, Emma found herself grabbing for Killian’s hand only to find that it wasn’t there.

“See?” Emma said, pressing both hands to Killian’s chest to stop them both. “If I turn one way, I’m grabbing for the hook, but if I turn the other way, he can’t grab hold of my waist.”

Rose shrugged. “Why can’t you grab his hook?”

Emma shook her head. “What?”

“On _Neverland_ , I hold his hook all the time, like it’s a hand.”

“The aluminum one?” Emma asked.

“Of course,” Rose explained, “the rubber one would bend if I grabbed it. When Hook and Tink danced at that ball in season two, Killian and I did that waltz with the aluminum hook.”

Killian arched a brow at Emma. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, Swan.”

Rose brushed past Emma and grabbed Killian’s arms. Emma hated the way it made her bristle. Rose put Killian’s right hand at her waist, then grabbed his hook and lifted his arm. Her frame was terrible, but she and Killian waltzed around the room in perfect rhythm just like Emma remembered in the episode Rose had referred to. Then Killian lifted Rose’s arm over her head, and the tiny blonde did a tight turn perfectly, still holding on to his hook. Then he spun her out and back in, his hook now at her waist.

“See how he holds it?” Rose showed her. “Whenever the script calls for him to hug me or embrace me, he keeps it sideways like this.”

Emma nodded, and she suddenly felt foolish. “So what you’re saying is I should just choreograph the way I normally do?”

“Well, not necessarily . . . “

Rose stayed with them the rest of the day, and slowly, as time wore on, Emma found she actually enjoyed having her there. Rose and Killian were obviously close, but now that she really paid attention, she could see that it was a very casual and platonic relationship. They teased each other almost like siblings would, and Rose gushed over Emma’s partnership with Killian, calling them “adorable” and “the cutest thing ever.” Rose helped Emma tremendously with the choreography, showing her which side to stand on if she needed to clasp Killian’s opposite hand, and how to execute the dance’s one spinning lift safely. At the end of the day, she and Rose grabbed the other two hooks from the box, and the three of them posed for a selfie with them.

As Emma gathered up her things and stood with her dance bag slung over her shoulder, Rose was next to her with an impish grin on her face. “Can I talk to you for a second now that Killian’s gone?” Rose asked.

Emma glanced over to the corner where the camera crew was packing up their gear. She let out a relieved sigh. “Sure.”

          “I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but I’ve been watching the show . . . ” she hesitated, her brow furrowing.

          Emma lifted her hand. “Not you too, Rose! I know everyone talks about our chemistry, but he has chemistry with you, too. Frankly, he seems to have chemistry with everyone.”

          Rose shook her head. “Not like with you. And it’s not just when you perform. He’s been . . . different. Happier.” She took Emma’s hands in hers. “He deserves more than shallow women grasping for fame.”

          Emma broke eye contact with her, shaking her head. “Rose, I think you’ve misunderstood –“

          “No,” she interrupted, “I don’t think I have. You were jealous of that other dancer, Jasmine. You’ve been jealous of me.”

          Emma’s head snapped up, her eyes blinking. “That’s ridiculous!”

          Rose’s face gentled as she let go of Emma’s hands. “Is it? You care for him, I can see that you do.”

          Emma gave her a wry smile. “Is this where you warn me not to break his heart like his fangirls do online?”

          Rose shook her head. “I think you’re more worried about _your_ heart. That’s what I wanted to tell you. He’s a good guy, so don’t be afraid to give what you two have a chance.” She gave her another smile, patted her shoulder, and left the room.

          Emma groaned and let her dance bag drag the floor as she left the room wearily. Couldn’t the universe just let her protect her heart in peace?

                    ********************************************************

          The semi-final episode actually involved two dances, just like the finals would. For this one, they had the people’s choice dance and then a re-do of their lowest scoring dance. They were slated to dance next-to-last for both. They did a re-do of their week three salsa first, getting two tens and a nine from Blue. Killian was definitely better at shaking his hips than he had been when the competition started.

          Then they took the floor for their quickstep. Killian was dressed like Captain Hook, only this costume was made of light, stretchy imitation leather instead of the heavy garments he wore on his TV show. Killian also joked that his pirate duster on _Neverland_ wasn’t bedazzled like this one.

          The studio audience cheered when Rose showed up in the rehearsal footage. Emma actually smiled as it played; the three of them really had a great time together that day. She glanced over to the studio audience where Rose was sitting in the front. She winked at Emma and gave her a thumbs up. As the package wound to a close, Emma turned to Killian, stepping into his embrace. Her hair was done up in a loose bun and she wore the green tunic dress as Tinkerbell.

          The bright, light, and airy piano notes of the _Neverland_ theme began to play, and Emma and Killian began their routine. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was different tonight. She was painfully aware of Rose in the audience; painfully aware of the costumes they both wore. She usually could slip into a role so easily, but tonight she felt like an imposter. The Captain Fairy fandom was in the back of her mind the whole time. How were they receiving this dance? Emma was frustrated with herself when the final notes faded out, realizing she had been stuck in her head the entire time.

          Killian put his arm around her and pulled her close as they turned to the judges. The results were a big surprise; for once, Tiana was their toughest critic.

          “I don’t know what it was, but I felt a disconnect,” she told them.

In the end, she gave them a nine while Teach and even Blue gave them a ten (for their flawless quickstep technique). Emma’s shoulders slumped, even though Killian told her he was thrilled with the performance. She hated it because she knew who was at fault for the disconnect Tiana had mentioned. Emma could blame no one but herself. With so few dancers left, time was brief, so she didn’t have the luxury of slipping backstage to nurse her wounds. But Killian caught her hand and squeezed it. When she looked up at him, his gaze was soft.

“You can do this, Emma.”

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Anything,” he said huskily, brushing at a stray curl that framed her face, “for I have yet to see you fail.”

She pressed her lips together, trying desperately not to let him see how deeply those words touched her. She was rescued from having to respond when an assistant director barked at them to take their places downstairs before the commercial break ended.

Emma and Killian took their place with the rest of the celebs and their dancers: figure skater Aurora Briar, football player Lance Knight, and finally, Belle. Killian was still in his pirate garb and hook, but he still wrapped his arms tightly around her. Emma leaned back into him, her eyes closed tight. There was still no guarantee they had made it into the finals, and if that lackluster performance had been their last, Emma would kick herself.

“The first couple dancing in the finals is . . .” Marco paused dramatically, “Belle French and her partner Jefferson!”

Belle let out a loud squeal and almost knocked Jefferson over with the force of her hug. Emma smiled up at Killian; they both adored Belle and were happy for her. Honestly, Emma felt that whoever in this group made it into the finals, they would deserve it.

“The next group to make the finals . . . “ this time it was Ashley dragging out the suspense, “Aurora and Sean!”

Sean Herman, her brother David’s best friend since the eighth grade, shouted and lifted his partner off her feet, spinning her around. Sean had been on the show since the fourth season and had never made the finals. David would be thrilled for him.

The lights dimmed in the entire studio, and two spotlights shone down on Emma and Killian on stage left, and Lance and Gwen on stage right. Emma bit her lip and shifted so she could wrap her arms around Killian’s waist. They had been dancing strong all season, but Lance was an NFL football player, and football players had always done extremely well on _Dancing on the Stars_. Many of them had won the mirror ball.

“The final couple...“ Marco intoned, “performing in the finals...is...“

Emma grasped Killian’s forearm in a vise-like grip. Couldn’t Marco just get to the damn point?

“ ...Killian Jones and Emma Swan!”

Emma felt her knees buckle beneath her, but Killian kept her on her feet as he squeezed her tight. She didn’t know whether to shout for joy or cry. Finally, the mirror ball might actually be hers.

          Emma was so excited, she couldn’t help but go on social media before bed that night to see what Killian’s fans were saying about him making the finals. And, she had to confess, she probably was also craving some positive feedback after their lackluster quickstep. Emma was shocked when the buzz online wasn’t about the _Neverland_ dance, or Killian’s hip-shaking in the salsa, or even their place in the finals. No, Killian’s fans were demanding one thing and one thing only.

          _When are they going to kiss?_ @piratelover

          _Kiss already, Captain Swan!_ @neverlander

          _I know the disconnect Tiana was talking about. They just need to kiss!_ @trueloveandpixiedust

          _Dear Captain Swan, can we please have a kiss in the final?_ @fairytaledaydreamer

          When Emma showed her sister, Elsa just laughed.

          “And you were worried his fans would hate you for pretending to be Tinkerbell,” she quipped with a wink.


	14. Secret Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The dance in this chapter was inspired by a dance by Magda and Robert on the last season of So You Think You Can Dance. I have to thank everyone in the CSBB again for the Discord chat as I struggled to decide on a song for Emma and Killian’s final routine. distant_rose is the one who suggested “Secret Love,” and if you watch that Youtube video of the Magda/Robert dance muted with that song playing, it’s perfect. hellotragic suggested the song “Stole the Show,” which I also ended up using. Thanks to both of you! 
> 
> *Ro’s song suggestions are only one example of what a fantastic beta she was, truly going above and beyond. optomisticgirl made chapter art for this week that captures Emma and Killian’s samba so well. Please go over to her tumblr and give her some love!

The next day, Emma saw Killian’s gray hoodie and baseball cap again when he picked her up before rehearsals. They had to enter the studio together anyway so the cameras could record their reaction. One of the judges would be their mentor, choreographing their routine and giving them pointers. They wouldn’t find out who it was until they arrived at the studio. Killian pointed out that if they didn’t ride together, one of them would just have to stand around in the lobby or the hallway waiting for the other one. It made practical sense, so she agreed. After all, friends could give each other rides to work. Right?

          Inviting Killian to get their early, however, was all Henry. He had been pestering her to have Killian over again for weeks, and she _did_ promise Henry breakfast every morning until New Year’s, and Killian _did_ need to eat a healthy, protein-filled breakfast in order to dance, and . . . At that point, Emma had cut him off, joking that he really ought to be a lawyer when he grew up.

          Killian and Henry got along that morning just as well as they had over pizza and video games all those weeks ago. Killian even helped him with an especially tricky math problem from his homework assignment, one that had baffled Emma the night before. When it was time for the bus to come, Henry fist-bumped Killian before dashing for the door, only remembering at the last moment that he forgot to kiss his mother goodbye.

          “Why am I even here?” Emma had joked.

          “For the pancakes, of course,” Killian had answered her with a wink.

          “And here I thought it was the turkey bacon,” she had quipped back.

          Their easy banter continued on the car ride to the studio, and Emma felt lighter than she had since that ridiculous kiss. Maybe this “just friends” thing could work after all.

          Now they stood in front of the door to their rehearsal studio, Emma’s hand gripping the doorknob. “You ready to see who our mentor is?” she asked Killian.

          His gaze lifted to the ceiling as he crossed himself. “Please let it be Tiana, please, please . . .”

          Emma laughed, mostly because she shared the sentiment. Then she took a deep breath and pushed the door open. There, standing in the center of the room, with a huge grin on her face, arms already stretched out for a hug, was Tiana. Emma and Killian didn’t have to fake their enthusiasm for the cameras as they accepted her embrace.

          “Okay, you two,” Tiana told them, clasping her manicured hands together under her chin, “I have been a huge fan since that first week. I _knew_ you would make it here. Are you ready to get to work?”

          Tiana’s open expression and genuine smile made it easy to share in her enthusiasm. Emma couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for Belle and Aurora right now.

          “You,” Tiana said, pointing at Killian, “have an advantage over the competition because of your acting ability. You embody the choreography and the story that it’s telling every single time. So the dance I’ve created for the two of you has that story-telling element.”

          “What advice do you have, though?” Killian asked, his brow furrowed. “I mean, I definitely want to play up my strengths, but to win, I need to work on my weaknesses too.”

          “I agree,” Tiana said, nodding her head with such vigor that a dark curl fell across her forehead, “Belle is probably the most improved of the competition, while you’ve been more consistent. As for Aurora, being a figure skater, she’s always had you beat when it comes to technique. You need to show us that your extensions are better.” She paused and nudged Killian’s hip. “And we’ve got to show that this Brit can shake his booty.”

          Emma laughed as Tiana shimmied around him. Killian turned red to the tips of his ears. Tiana high-fived Emma, then turned to the camera.

          “I’ve been wanting to do that since week one,” she said, then winked. She turned back to Emma and Killian. “Okay, so let’s get to work. You two have great chemistry, but you’re still holding back. So . . . I’ve choreographed a very steamy rumba.”

          Emma gulped as her own face turned red. A rumba? A very steamy rumba?’ Oh shit . . .

                    *******************************************************

          Tiana definitely wasn’t holding anything back with her choreography. The rumba was always sensual, but there was hardly a moment in the dance that Emma and Killian weren’t pressed up against one another. There was a lift where Emma was straddling Killian while facing him and the dismount called for Emma to basically fall across his shoulder. Tiana was constantly asking both of them to bury their fingers in each other’s hair. But the last straw for Emma was the end. The two of them were literally rolling on the ground with one another with Emma at one point straddling Killian. The tangle of their arms and legs was enough to set every nerve ending on fire, but when she had to look down into Killian’s always expressive face as he lay flat on his back beneath her, it all became too much.

          “I’m not sure this is appropriate,” she muttered as she scrambled to her feet, “I mean, this is an eight o’clock show. On ABC, not HBO.”

          Tiana’s eyes opened wide, and the look she gave Emma as she crossed her arms had Emma squirming. “Excuse me? I thought you were a pro.”

          Emma swallowed hard. As nice as Tiana was, Emma couldn’t forget that she was both a judge and a co-producer of the show. Not to mention the clout she had in the dance industry as a choreographer.

          “Of course,” she said, pressing her lips together as a blush crept up her face.

          Tiana’s expression softened, “Look, Emma, I know what I’m doing. This will be tasteful, I promise.”

          Killian, who was still sitting on the floor, was looking nervously between the two women. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he scrambled to his feet. “I don’t want Emma to feel uncomfortable.”

          Tiana propped her fist beneath her chin as she narrowed her eyes at the pair of them. “I’ve seen Emma dance plenty of sensual routines. And you, Jones? I’ve seen you do plenty of steamy scenes as an actor. Is there anything I need to know between the two of you? Anything that’s causing . . . tension?”

          Emma was intensely aware of the camera crew as she exchanged a glance with Killian. They both spoke at once.

          “No, nothing at all.”

          “Seriously? No way.”

          For half a second, a tiny smile hitched up one corner of Tiana’s lips, but then she schooled her features. “Okay. However, something’s still missing. Let’s keep working.”

          Emma pushed aside her discomfort as she took Killian’s hand. They continued working. Tiana was a relentless coach, repeating the word “again” after every run through. She stopped occasionally to correct something with Killian’s technique, but for the most part, she kept shaking her head and saying “again.” Soon, Emma and Killian were soaked with sweat. You would think it would make the intimate lifts and the rolling on the floor disgusting. Instead, the sweatier they both got, the more uncomfortable Emma became. She felt emotionally raw; exposed.

          “Stop,” Tiana commanded. Emma and Killian both doubled over, breathless. Tiana just shook her head as she looked at them. “I don’t know what it is, but I just don’t believe this routine. You’re not connecting with one another. Are you even listening to the lyrics?”

          The song was “Secret Love” by Little Mix, and it said things like, “Why can’t I kiss you on the dance floor?” and “every second, every thought, I’m in so deep, but I’ll never show it on my face.” Of course she was listening to the lyrics; that was part of the problem! Without a word, Emma turned and walked out of the studio, slamming the door behind her. She ignored Tiana’s indignant protests. She was being unprofessional, but right now she couldn’t care less. She fled down the hallway and burst into an empty studio. She took deep breaths as spots danced before her eyes. She lifted trembling hands to run them through her sweat-drenched hair. When Killian’s hands rested gently on her shoulders, she jumped at his touch.

          “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I was just worried about you.”

          Emma pressed a hand to her chest as she turned to face him. “I just don’t know what she wants from you. We’re killing ourselves in there, and it’s still not enough.”

          Killian rubbed her upper arms gently before pulling her close. “I apologize for how awful I smell,” he murmured against her hair.

          She managed a small laugh. “Ugh, I reek too,” she mumbled against his chest.

          They stayed that way in silence for a long moment, and when Killian finally spoke again, his voice sounded tentative. “You never let me hold you like this on the dance floor. Have you ever considered . . . that the one not connecting when we dance . . .  is you?”

          His words were like a punch to the gut. Emma reeled back, shoving him lightly with her palms “What do you mean? I’m the pro! And . . . and . . . I’ve never,” she let out a shaky breath before confessing, “I’ve never connected with anyone when I dance the way I do with you.”

          Killian’s eyes were tender as he traced her jaw with his fingertips. “And maybe that’s the problem. What are you holding back? What are you afraid to feel, Emma?”

          A tumult of emotions assaulted her as she shoved his hand away. The easiest one to identify was anger. “Don’t pretend you understand me, Jones.”

          As she stalked out, Killian whispered a reply. “Perhaps I’d like to.”

                    **********************************************************

          Emma didn’t sleep well at all the night after their first disastrous rehearsal with Tiana, and Henry had actually been the one to wake _her_ up with a bowl of cereal and some fruit (and she tried to not feel guilty – and failed – when he dashed out the door with a couple of pop tarts in his hand). What had she done to deserve such a great kid?

          Now she was dashing in late for rehearsals, and her sleepless night had given her no solutions whatsoever. She was still overwhelmed by the emotions Tiana’s choreography evoked, and she had no idea what to do about it. The only thing she did know, and hated to admit, was that Killian was right. The problem was with her.

          Emma was so lost in thought as she ran through the door, that she didn’t see Belle at all. The brunette also had her head down, texting on her phone, so the pair of them went stumbling backwards, and Belle went crashing on her rear, her phone flying out of her hand.

          “Oh God,” Emma gasped, reaching out a hand to help her up, “I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?”

          “Just my pride,” Belle laughed, “that’s what I get for texting while walking.”

          As Belle dusted off her designer skirt, Emma picked up her cell phone. She didn’t mean to invade Belle’s privacy, but she noticed Robert Gold’s name.

          “Too bad I’m not in my grubby rehearsal clothes,” Belle continued, frowning at a smudge of dirt on the hem of her skirt. “I was just here to pick up Teach’s music. He wants us to rehearse on the beach, can you believe it? That man is so bizarre. He still uses CDs, too . . . “ she trailed off when she noticed Emma’s expression. Her eyes toggled from Emma’s face to the cell phone clutched in her hand.

          “Is Gold bothering you again?” Emma asked her.

          Belle blushed as she shoved the phone into her cross-body purse. “I just think we should try to see the best in people, you know? I think there’s a good man in Mr. Gold, deep down.”

          Emma frowned at the woman as she crossed her arms. “You’re not developing feelings for him, are you?”

          Belle shook her head adamantly. “Oh no, of course not!” a softer expression filled her face as she sighed and said, “I mean, Liam had to go home, but we’re still in touch. We want to keep pursuing what we started.”

          Emma’s brow furrowed in concern. “So what’s with Gold and the texting?”

          Belle shuffled nervously back and forth, “Like I said, I see a good man in him. And I just thought that if I were kind to him, maybe he wouldn’t have to make threats or . . . I don’t know . . . “

          “Let me see the messages,” Emma said, putting out her palm in the way she would with Henry.

          Belle’s eyes sparked for a moment in protest, but then she sighed and turned over the phone.  “I guess you have a right to know. Since he was banned from the lot.”

          Emma shook her head and gave Belle a soft smile. “It isn’t that, really. It’s just . . . I know how these creeps work. You give them a little attention, and they think they own you.”

          Belle quirked a brow. “How do you know that?”

          Emma ignored her question and began scrolling through the messages.

          _I saw you talking on the phone as you left rehearsal the other day. Was it that hot head who attacked me? What was his name again?_

**_His name is Liam, and yes we’re still seeing each other._**

_Long distance? Is it serious?_

**_I don’t know. He makes me smile._**

_I could make you smile. And I’m right here._

**_I told you, I only see you as a friend._**

_But I need you Belle._

_Belle?_

_Don’t ignore me!_

Emma stopped reading, her frown deepening. “This sounds creepy, Belle. He’s been watching you!”

          “Not necessarily,” Belle argued, “I mean, he may have just been driving by. He lives here, after all, and his offices are in downtown LA.”

          Emma stepped closer and laid a hand on Belle’s shoulder. “The restraining order says he’s not supposed to be within two blocks of here, but that’s not the point. These texts sound a lot like some I used to get when . . . well, a long time ago from a guy. Please, Belle, cut this man off. Don’t try to be nice.”

          Belle closed out the texts on her phone and gave Emma a tight nod. “Okay. I’ll think about what you said.”

          Emma gave her arm a squeeze before she turned to exit the building. Emma hugged her arms to her chest, feeling as if a chill had blown past. The texts brought up memories that she _really_ didn’t need right now. She felt defeated already as she made her way up the stairs.

          Emma was afraid that she would get a mouthful from Tiana when she came in late, but the judge was laughing with Killian, tossing her thick dark curls over one shoulder. The pair of them turned, eyes lit up with pleasure to see her.

          “Emma!” Tiana greeted, giving her a small hug. When she pulled back, her eyes were narrowed with concern as she scrutinized her face. “I was really worried I had pushed too hard yesterday. Is everything okay?”

          “Aye Swan,” Killian added as he came close, putting an arm around her shoulder, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

          Emma couldn’t hold back the shudder that passed through her even as she shook her head. “I’m fine, really, just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”

          Emma could tell Killian wasn’t buying it by the slight arch of his brow, but then his trademark smile filled his face. “Well, love, I’ve been talking to Tiana, and I think our problem is that we don’t know the characters we’re playing.”

          “Characters?” Emma asked as she stepped away from the pair to deposit her dance bag against the wall.

          “Yes,” Tiana said, “Killian was explaining how both of you usually create a character to slip into. He thinks that’s why the Neverland dance didn’t have the right connection because you felt it was Rose’s character, not yours.”

          “And I remembered that Tiana said she had created a story with our rumba,” Killian continued.

          Tiana laughed, “And I didn’t even realize that I never told you what the story was.”

          “Okay,” Emma said, liking where this was going. She caught Killian’s eye, and he gave her a nod and a wink. He was trying to make this easier for her, and though she wanted to be irritated over it, she was honestly relieved. “So what’s the story?”

          Tiana rubbed her hands together, eager. “You’re a dancer, Emma, and Killian is a pop star. Or, the other way around, it doesn’t really matter. The point is, you have to keep your relationship professional, yet there’s all this sexual tension, and you just wish you could admit what’s there.”

          Emma rubbed at her throat, catching Killian’s eye again, this time he tilted his head ever so slightly. The man was as just too damn expressive. It was scary how well they could communicate with looks, and this silent communication said that the storyline was a little too close to the truth for comfort. But . . . Tiana didn’t have to know that.

          “I like it,” was all Emma said.

          “Great!” Tiana cheered. “Let’s get started!”

          Killian stood behind Emma, one hand at her waist for the beginning of the dance. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I can tell something’s bothering you.”

          She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She was so tired of always keeping it together. “You’re right,” she admitted, “but can we just focus on the dance for now?”

          She tilted her face up to meet his just as the first notes of music began to play. He squeezed her waist and gave her a soft smile.

          “You told me dance is your therapy, remember?”

          Then he spun her out, and she let the music sweep her away.

                    *******************************************************

          Monday came faster than Emma could have imagined. Instead of a routine by the pros, the show opened with a group routine of the top three couples to Parson James’ “Stole the Show.” Actually, it was more like a series of three short solos. As each couple danced a brief contemporary routine, the jumbotron behind them flashed a montage of clips from throughout the season. Emma was surprised how emotional it made her, especially in light of the lyrics:  “Our debut was a masterpiece, but in the end for you and me, oh the show, it can’t go on.” It was beginning to sink in how soon she would have to tell Killian goodbye. London. It was so far away. She thought she would be prepared for this moment, but . . . London?

          As soon as the lights came up and the studio audience began to cheer, the three pro dancers and their celebrities dashed backstage to get into their costumes. Ashley and Marco’s introduction followed by the commercial break would buy them a little time, but not much. Especially for Jefferson and Belle who would dance first. Emma broke away from Killian as she made a beeline for the women’s dressing room, but he stopped her with a gentle hand to her shoulder.

          “Are you okay, Swan?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

          “Sure,” she said, shrugging off his touch, “it’s just . . . the show must go on. Right?”

          “Right . . . “

          She refused to meet his gaze as she hurried along with the other female performers. The costume department was a flurry of activity as usual, and in the hustle and bustle, Emma pushed Killian’s forlorn expression from her face. She winced as she reached for her “costume”: a light blue men’s button-down shirt which only fell to the top of her thigh. Underneath she would wear a pair of black lycra dance shorts that were just long enough to let the eight o’clock viewers know she was, in fact, clothed. A part of her wanted to throw a fit when she saw it at dress rehearsals that morning, but she had bit her tongue. Tiana had already questioned her professionalism. She wasn’t about to push things further. After putting on her costume, Emma rushed to hair and makeup.    They kept her hair down and artfully tousled, and her makeup was of a rosy hue. The entire look screamed, “I just had sex.” Emma blew out a long breath, and her locks, stiff with hairspray, rose and fell from across her eyes. She tossed her head back and glared at her reflection.

          _You can do this Emma!_ She lectured herself. _Just play a character. Connect with his. It’s nothing._

Of course, that was a little hard to remember when she joined Killian in the hallway to find him wearing a pair of jeans. And nothing else.

          Emma narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “I thought they had you in a white t-shirt?”

          Killian shrugged, quirking one brow in that playful way of his. “I think they’ve got you wearing my shirt, love.”

          Emma couldn’t help but chuckle, even as she rolled her eyes. The lights flashed and a voice called out that they were back from commercial in three. Emma grabbed Killian by the arm. “Come on, they want us all up in the balcony to watch each other’s routines.”

          The package for Jefferson and Belle’s routine confirmed what Belle had told her: Edward Teach was one eccentric choreographer. Not only did he have them rehearse on the beach, but he had them doing lifts in the surf.

          “I think he’s watched _Dirty Dancing_ one too many times,” Killian quipped in Emma’s ear. She giggled.

          Nonetheless, Jefferson and Belle did a beautiful samba to – no surprise – “The Time of Our Lives.” Emma was impressed that Teach managed to make the choreography fresh and unique, not copying anything from the movie. The lifts were impressive, though nothing like that famous one between Baby and Johnny. In the end, they got two nines and a ten (from Teach, of course).

          Emma wasn’t surprised that Aurora Briar took Blue’s rigid teaching style in stride. She was probably used to that type of coaching as an Olympic figure skater. She was, however, surprised at Blue’s choice of music and the style. Aurora and Sean danced a tango to “Roxanne,” the version from the movie _Moulin Rouge_.

          “Did we miss the memo about it being movie theme night?” Killian whispered nervously.

          Emma shrugged. “Maybe she was thinking about those Canadian ice dancers that skated to that song. I don’t know.” She patted Killian’s arm. “Our routine is more original. Tiana did a great job.”

          He laced his fingers with hers. “You’re right, Swan. It’s just that we’re so close to winning . . .”

          She let out a long, shaky breath. “I know.” Then she squeezed his hand before releasing it so they could clap as Aurora and Sean faced the judges. They got two nines and an eight, their own mentor giving them the toughest critiques.

          “How long has that stick been up Blue’s arse?” Killian muttered.

Emma smiled and playfully nudged his shoulder.  “Come on, it’s better for us, right?”

He scowled and crossed his arms. Emma tried not to admire how his biceps bulged. “I still think it was a low blow. She was their mentor!”

But Aurora’s low scores weren’t the most shocking part of the figure skater’s night. During her interview with Ashley, her pairs figure skating partner, Phillip, came up to congratulate her. After embracing her, the young man got down on one knee, pulling a tiny black velvet box from his coat pocket. Everyone went crazy when he proposed to Aurora on national television. Sobbing, she managed to choke out a, “yes.” The two embraced amidst loud cheers as Ashley segued to a commercial.

All Emma had time to do was give Aurora a brief side hug before she and Killian were ushered quickly down to the dance floor to hit their marks. As she rushed down the stairs, her hand in Killian’s, Emma glanced back at Aurora who only had eyes for Phillip as he pulled her to him again for a long, deep kiss. The sight made a deep longing slowly unfurl in Emma’s chest.

Their bare feet made no sound as they crossed the dance floor. A murmur of anticipation rippled through the audience, and a few whistles rang out. It caused a blush to tint the tips of Killian’s ears as she met his gaze. His eyes were bright under the stage lights, and Emma reached out to grasp his other hand. She wanted to say something, here in this moment that was so close to the end of their journey together, but words failed her. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile as he lifted both of her hands to his lips.

“I know, Swan,” he whispered, his breath sending tingles along her knuckles and down her arm. As the lights dimmed around them, she found she could scarcely breathe at the look in his eyes. Their rehearsal footage played, and for the first time that season, they turned to watch it together. Killian put his arm around her, and she let herself lean back against him. She was relieved to see that any emotional meltdowns involving her had been edited out. Instead, her frustrations came across as a deep desire to make the routine perfect for Killian’s sake; so they could win, which was completely true. In every way it was true; she wanted to win now not to prove herself but because Killian deserved it. She wanted to give this to him.

The video came to a close, and Emma stood erect, hitting her opening pose. Killian did the same, pulling her flush against him, lowering his face to hover over her neck, both hands grasping her waist. The opening of the song had been shortened by the live band, and their first movements didn’t begin until the female vocalist belted out the first lines of the song. They both swayed in unison as she sang, _When you hold me in the street_ . Killian spun her out – _And you kiss me on the dance floor_ – then yanked her back to him again – _Why can’t it be like that?_

Emma had always felt a new kind of freedom dancing with Killian, had always felt that she could lose herself in his arms. But she realized suddenly that Tiana was right, all this time she had been holding back. Because in that moment, there was nothing but the two of them. Emma completely forgot about the judges, the competition, the audience, the cameras. The meaning of the song washed over her, the perfection of each lyric for their relationship cracking her heart wide.

_Cause I’m yours kept behind closed doors. Every time I see you, I die a little more. Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls._ Emma contracted her body forward like a rag doll, and Killian’s arm circled her waist as he lifted her and carried her across the floor, her arms stretching out for something she couldn’t have. Then he flipped her and caught her bridal-style. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and it had nothing to do with Tiana’s choreography.

The male vocalist sang as Killian lifted her high into the air. _Would you leave if I was ready to settle down? Or would you play it safe and stay?_ The look on his face as she collapsed into his arms from the lift, their foreheads pressed together, was so intense, she knew he wasn’t acting. Neither was she.

When they came to the part where they rolled together on the floor, Emma didn’t have a single thought of embarrassment. At this point, she’d forgotten everything but Killian. _Why can’t I kiss you on the dance floor?_ The lines of the final chorus wrapped around them as Emma straddled Killian, her hands cradling his head. She leaned forward as he rose up towards her, which wasn’t in the choreography. They were supposed to end the dance lying on their backs, hands clasped, then rolling away from each other. Tiana had explained that the end was supposed to show the tragedy of a love that could never be. Instead, Killian’s eyes locked with Emma’s, and she couldn’t have pulled away from him if she’d tried. She pressed her lips to his, her eyes falling closed. He kissed her back as the music faded away.

It was the sound of deafening applause that snapped them both out of it. Killian’s expression was wrecked as he pressed his forehead to hers, tenderly thumbing her cheek. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face there for a moment to collect herself. He rose to a standing position smoothly, carrying her with him.

“We did it, Emma,” he whispered in her ear, his voice slightly choked, “we did it.”

She nodded, still unable to speak, and a tear slipped down her cheek as she pulled away from him. He brushed it away with his thumb and gave her a small smile. She smiled tremulously back at him. They turned towards the judges, and Emma gasped when she saw all three judges on their feet giving them a standing ovation. Killian grabbed her in a side hug, lifting her off her feet as they found that the entire studio audience was also on their feet. Tiana had tears streaming down her face which she didn’t bother to wipe away. The cheers in the studio only seemed to increase, and Marco stepped towards them. He told them that they were running short on time, though his words were practically swallowed up by the roaring crowd. He directed them towards the stairs, and they made their way to the balcony. When they reached the top of the steps, they were surrounded by their competitors who hugged them and congratulated them with enthusiasm. It took a few more minutes even as they reached Ashley’s side for the pandemonium to die down.

“Well,” Ashley said, “we have never in the history of the show had a dance bring the house down like that one. Let’s get your scores.”

Emma and Killian embraced one another as they listened to the scores. Tiana gave them a ten, and they both laughed with joy. Teach also gave them a ten, and Emma squealed while Killian kissed her cheek. Blue gave them a ten, and pandemonium broke out in the studio once again. Killian shouted, then lifted Emma off her feet and spun her around.

“A perfect score!” Ashley announced into the microphone. Then she turned to them with a slightly mischievous smile. “And I’ve got to ask you. This season has been filled with romance, Emma. First with your sister and her partner Graham, then tonight with a proposal.  So everyone wants to know: that kiss just now? Was that real?”

Emma’s mouth fell open as her face burned. Killian, bless him, saved the day.

“Well, the song did say _kiss you on the dance floor_ ,” he joked with his usual charm.

Laughter rippled throughout the studio, but Ashley wasn’t deterred. “Come on now, Emma. First your twin brother finds true love last season with his partner, now your sister Elsa has found it. We’ve all noticed the chemistry you have with Killian. Is there _anything_ between you two? Has there been a date? Other kisses? Come on, everyone’s dying to know.”

This was the reason no one took the “no romantic entanglements” clause in the contracts seriously. The producers officially claimed to be against hookups on the show, yet they always played up rumors whenever it helped the ratings. Emma swallowed back her frustration as Ashley shoved the microphone in her face. Once again, Killian stepped in, leaning over her shoulder to answer the question instead. Emma figured he was used to fielding invasions of privacy like this anyway.

“Emma is a very dear friend, so of course I care deeply for her. But no, there have been no dates.”

Emma was impressed. He had smoothly answered the question vaguely without lying. She blushed when he winked at her as Ashley announced the next commercial break. As everyone’s attention shifted away from them, Killian pulled her to a far corner of the balcony. The adrenaline of their performance had finally worn off, and she found herself trembling, worrying what he was about to say. His eyes roamed her face, soft and vulnerable.

“You know I wasn’t acting out there, right?” he asked her softly.

Emma bit her lip and nodded. “I know,” she breathed out. She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Neither was I, but –“

“It’s okay,” he cut her off, thumbing the dimple in her chin. “I meant what I said before. I’ll only take what you’re ready to give.”

Emma blinked as she felt tears gather behind her eyes. Her gaze darted over his shoulder. She couldn’t lose it right now, not when they were about to film the close of the show. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Then Killian’s hands were cupping her face, gently turning her gaze to his again.

“I’ll always be your friend, Emma, no matter what.”

His words made all the tension drain from her body. His hands fell away, and Emma felt her tears dissipate. He smiled, and she returned it.

“I’ll hold you to that, Jones,” she said.

Killian may have felt no need to pressure her for more than friendship, but that didn’t mean their fans shared the sentiment. Their dance went viral within hours of the live broadcast, and social media exploded with reactions to their steamy routine.

“Did you see that kiss?! I’m dead!” @trueloveandpixiedust

“You haven’t been on a date with her, Killian? Okay . . . .” @thecaptainsfairy

“They were awfully good at kissing. I don’t think that was their first one.” @neverlandforever

“Did you notice how he answered those questions? They’re a couple, and you can’t convince me otherwise.” @hooker4life

Emma wouldn’t lie, she was a little embarrassed. Killian, of course, helped diffuse everything with his typical jokes when he called later that night to check on her.

“Look on the bright side, Swan, it probably means we got lots of votes. You should have kissed me sooner on national television.”

Since she couldn’t punch him over the phone, she just rolled her eyes.


	15. Stole the Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I can’t believe we are here at last to the penultimate chapter! All that’s left after this is a fluffy epilogue (which will post THIS Wednesday - yay!) I’ll wax emotionally about the csbb as a whole when I post that.  
> * But this chapter finally takes us to the finals! Much love to my beta, distant_rose for helping me finish this thing, and to my artist optomisticgirl for doing such stunning work. You both spoiled me, really. This chapter is another reason for the M rating, and the closest thing to smut I think I’ve ever written. (What is it about the csbb that does this to so many of us? lol) Having said that, hold onto your seats for this week’s chapter art, and cross your fingers that tumblr staff doesn’t get stupid over it.   
> * It's come to my attention that some of the art I attached to this fic here on Ao3 has disappeared. I've tried to fix it to no avail. I highly recommend that you visit captainswanbigbang.tumblr.com and click on the link on the left of the page that says "2018 CSBB Art" then you can scroll through all the art for this year's event, including all the art made by optomisticgirl for this story. You can also find a complete list of all fics on that site. I highly recommend checking it out as there was SO much talent in fic and art for this year's event.

The light coming from beneath the crack of Henry’s door was not only barely detectable, but flickered and bounced. Emma wasn’t surprised then to find her son reading by flashlight when she eased the door open. He didn’t even notice her at first, his eyes scanning the page in front of him eagerly. She leaned against the door frame, a fond smile upon her face.

“It’s late kid,” she said softly.

He jumped slightly, raising his gaze to hers with a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry, Mom, I just wanted to see what happened next.”

She raised her brows at him in warning. “It’s a school night.”

“Can I finish this chapter? Pleeease?”

Emma crossed the room and gently took the book from his hands. “A page and a half . . . okay, I guess so. But no more than that!”

“I promise.”

Emma bent down and kissed the top of his head, then flipped on the lamp beside his bed. “Better for your eyes,” she explained.

Discarding the flashlight, Henry wiggled down under the bedsheets. “Are you going to go on a date with Killian?” he asked, ignoring the book in his hand for the moment.

Emma frowned. “Why do you ask that?”

“Well, you did kiss him,” Henry pointed out, “on tv.”

Emma sighed, “You know that’s acting, right? It’s part of my job. And his.”

Henry’s brow creased in confusion the way it always did when she tried to explain this aspect of performing. “Yeah, you’ve said that before, but . . . “

“Hey,” Emma said, crouching down to kneel by the bed, “you don’t have to worry about me dating. You come first, kiddo, always.”

Henry nodded. “I know. But if you wanted to go on a date, it would be okay with me.”

Emma tilted her head. “You _want_ me to go out with Killian?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” Henry said, picking at a tear in the binding of his book, “I mean I like him and all, it’s just . . . you having a boyfriend or whatever will be weird to get used to.”

“Whoa, hold up, who said anything about a boyfriend?” Emma asked, raising both hands in the air.

“You know what I mean,” Henry laughed and rolled his eyes. He looked so much like her in that moment, it was uncanny. “Just don’t kiss in front of me. Or on tv again. I think I’m scarred for life.”

It was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes as she stood up and straightened out his blanket. By the time she made it to the door, he was already engrossed in his book again. As she gently closed the door, she heard her cell phone ringing and dashed to retrieve it from where it sat charging on the kitchen counter.  Killian’s name was on the screen.

“Hey,” she said as she answered, a smile filling her face. Killian calling or texting just to chat had become fairly common since that night on his yacht, and she couldn’t deny that seeing his name pop up always brightened her mood.

“Emma,” he replied, and she could tell immediately from his tone that it wasn’t a mere social call, “I wanted you to know that Belle’s staying here at my place tonight. We tried to take precautions, but I didn’t want you waking up tomorrow and seeing something in the tabloids.”

Emma was touched that he had considered her feelings and was trying to be upfront, but she was more concerned about her friend’s safety. “Is Belle okay?”

Killian let out a shaky breath. “Gold came to her house.”

“Oh my God,” Emma breathed out as she sank down to the arm of her love seat. Across the room, Elsa sat up from the couch, her eyes wide with concern.

“She wasn’t home, thank God,” Killian replied, “but her neighbor saw him poking around the property, peeking in windows and everything. They knew about the restraining order, so they called the cops.”

“Please tell me they threw his ass in jail.”

Elsa started whispering a million questions, and Emma waved at her to wait.

“Not yet. He was gone by the time they got there, and he wasn’t at his penthouse either. Belle was freaked out, obviously, so I told her she could stay here. My place is gated with a state of the art security system,” he paused. “Are you okay with it?”

She couldn’t believe he was even considering her feelings in the matter. After all, it wasn’t like they were seeing each other. Nevertheless, the gesture and his honesty was incredibly sweet.

“Of course it’s okay,” she told him. She gnawed her lip for a moment before adding, “You’re a good man, Killian Jones.”

He chuckled, and she could imagine him scratching behind his ear and ducking his head. “Don’t know about that, but it would be a poor friend indeed who didn’t offer help to the lass.”

Emma heard a voice in the background that she assumed was Belle’s. It sounded as if Killian were turning away from the phone to talk to her, then he came back on the line. “Belle wants to talk to you.”

There was a shuffling as the phone changed hands. “Hi, Emma,” Belle said, “I feel awful about all of this. You were right, I should never have tried talking to him. He showed up at my house because I told him to stop texting me, I know it.”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Belle, none of this is your fault. You tried to see the good in someone. No one can fault you for that.”

“Thanks,” she said with a sigh, “though I have my doubts about that. Killian called Regina, and she says that the finale can’t be filmed out at The Grove anymore.”

“Again, that’s because of Gold, not you,” Emma insisted. “They have to make sure everyone is safe, fans included. The finale will be just as nice in the studio.”

“Despite Gold, I have made so many friends doing this show. You, Killian, Jefferson –“

“Liam,” Emma teased, and Belle laughed.

“Yes, him too. Killian says his flight comes in Saturday so that –“ Killian’s voice interrupted the conversation in the background, and Emma heard Belle say, “he doesn’t have to do that!” Then she came back on with Emma. “Correction, he changed his flight to tomorrow. He’s worried about me, apparently.”

“Well, that’s the Jones brothers for you, I guess,” Emma chuckled.

Belle’s voice lowered, “You’re right about that. So when will you snag one for yourself?”

“Belle!”

She laughed at Emma’s indignant reaction. By that point, Elsa was about to burst a blood vessel begging to know what was going on, so Emma quickly ended the call. She filled her sister in on everything, including the cancelling of the outdoor venue for the finale.

“That’s a shame,” Elsa sighed, “but safety has to come first.”

“That’s what I told Belle,” Emma agreed. She tilted her head at her sister. “Speaking of the finale, are you and Graham prepared to dance on the show again now that your relationship has gone public?” The finale always featured favorite dances from all the couples, and Elsa and Graham would be dancing their “Human” routine again from the most memorable year week.

“Oh sure,” Elsa replied breezily, a mischievous light gleaming in her blue eyes, “we might even add a kiss to the end of the routine this time around.”

Emma tossed a throw pillow at her sister’s head as Elsa dissolved into giggles. Apparently, no one, not even her family, would let Emma live down that spontaneous kiss.

********************************************************

“Are you ready?” Emma asked Killian, feeling strangely shy. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she grasped the door knob to the rehearsal studio.

Killian swallowed hard and nodded, for once speechless. Emma nodded back and slowly opened the door. She had never made it this far in the competition, so this particular tradition of the show was new to her. The effect took her breath away. She turned in a circle, her hands at her lips and her eyes blinking back tears as she took in the gorgeous photographs lining the walls; one for each of their dances throughout the season. Killian came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s a bit overwhelming,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Emma whispered as she crossed the room to the photograph of the two of them in their samba that very first week. They were smiling at one another, and Killian’s hands rested at her hips, the fringe of her dress frozen mid-shimmy. Emma cocked her head as she looked at her smiling face. That week, it had been fake. Now, the smiles that filled her face when dancing with Killian were real. She sighed and swallowed down the sadness that welled up inside of her.

“Remember this one?” Killian said from the other side of the room.

She turned and smiled at the picture he was pointing at. They were dressed in their nerdy outfits with those black-rimmed glasses perched on their noses for their jive to Sk8er Boi. Emma was crooking her finger to get his attention, and Killian’s face held an exaggerated expression of shock. She giggled remembering how much fun that jive was.

“I think that was a turning point for me,” Killian told her. He pulled her to him in a side embrace. “Thank you, for everything.”

“I’ll miss you,” she told him honestly, not caring that their conversation was being filmed.

He embraced her and kissed the top of her head. “And I you. Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you, Swan.”

Emma chuckled and gave him a playful shove. “Good.” Her gaze rested on a photograph of a romantic embrace from filming just two days ago. The intimacy displayed there was almost too much, so she quickly averted her eyes. “So,” she said, clearing her throat, “ready to do that Nirvana dance again?”

“Absolutely. It’s my favorite, you know.”

She smiled and laced their fingers together. “Then let’s get to work, partner.”

******************************************************

Emma’s only experiences with finales on _Dancing with the Stars_ was in the troupe. It was a completely different experience dancing it as one of the finalists. She had expected it to be emotional and nerve-wracking, but instead it all went by in a blur. She and Killian barely had a moment alone, rushed from a group routine, to their Nirvana routine, to another group routine, then to the balcony for multiple interviews. Emma also had to dance a group routine with all six female pros, and a duet with her brother for a performance by a guest pop star.

Killian tried on multiple occasions to pull her aside for a private conversation, but there honestly wasn’t enough time to spare. And maybe, in a tiny way, Emma was avoiding the inevitable goodbye, or trying to make it easier on herself. Expressing emotions off the dance floor had never been her strength, after all.

It was ridiculous in a way that the finale was two hours long. The only thing anyone really cared about was the announcement of the winner. Of course, that moment was dragged out until the final five minutes of air time. Only then were the final three couples lined up on the dance floor: Aurora and Sean, Belle and Jefferson, and Emma and Killian.

“The third place couple,” Marco announced, pausing an inordinate amount of time, “is . . . Aurora Briar and Sean Herman!”

There was polite clapping as Aurora and Sean hugged the other four competitors. Aurora didn’t seem too disappointed as she rushed to embrace her brand new fiancé. The lights dimmed further, the spotlights intensifying on the final two couples. Killian tightened his hold on her waist and pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

“I want to win this,” he whispered, “but not for me, Emma, for you.”

She squeezed his hand, her throat too dry to answer.

“And the winner,” Marco announced, “of this season of _Dancing with the Stars_ . . . winner of the coveted mirror ball . . . is . . . “

Emma refrained from rolling her eyes at the ridiculous way they were dragging things out. She felt her heart might burst out of her chest from the anticipation.

“ . . . Killian Jones and Emma Swan!”

Emma had never been a fainting type of woman, but in that moment, her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Killian practically caught her in his embrace as a confetti cannon blasted glittery pieces of paper all around them. The entire cast burst onto the dance floor, and Emma couldn’t tell who was hugging her. David and Graham hoisted Killian into the air on their shoulders, and Jefferson handed him the mirror ball trophy. Killian lifted it in triumph above his head. Then he patted David’s shoulder, gesturing to Emma. David put him down, and Killian rushed to her. She was afraid for a moment that he was going to grab her and kiss her. Not that she wouldn’t have enjoyed it, but they couldn’t have blamed such a display of affection on acting or choreography.

He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he bowed dramatically, presenting the trophy to her as if she were a princess on a throne high above him. She took it but shook her head at him. His eyes locked with hers, and he seemed to understand her meaning. He reached out and grasped the heavy trophy as well, and together they hoisted it into the air above both their heads. The meaning was clear; they had won this together.

************************************************************

Emma stood before the mirror in her trailer attempting to comb the hairspray out of her curls. She then smoothed out the stiff strands and twisted them into a messy braid. She then slipped into a navy blue wrap sundress and strappy white sandals. The media was always lurking around the lot after the finale for interviews, and she didn’t want to look like a mess in front of the cameras. She was just about to grab her dance bag and keys when a knock sounded at her trailer door. When she opened it, Killian was standing at the bottom of the steps looking up at her. His eyes brightened and a smile graced his face at the sight of her.

“You look lovely, Swan.”

She shrugged. “I know.”

They both laughed, a touch of nervousness in both their voices.

“You slipped out without saying goodbye,” he told her.

She glanced down and began to fiddle with the sash at her waist. “I’m not really a tearful goodbye person.”

“Well that’s kind of why I stopped by. You see, it’s not that big of a goodbye.”

Emma’s head snapped up to meet his gaze. “It’s not?”

He inclined his head. “May I come in?”

“Um . . . sure,” she said, stepping back to let him through the door.

The entire season, he had never been inside her trailer. It seemed odd now to see him in the small space. He picked up a photo of her and Elsa backstage last season, then one of her and David at their first ballroom competition when they were 13. He smiled fondly at both then turned to her with his hands in his pockets.

“I just told Regina that I’ll do the tour after all.”

Emma’s eyes widened as she took a step towards him. There was always a six week tour following the close of each season, but Killian’s contract had specified that he would be unavailable because of Neverland’s shooting schedule.

“How did you manage that?” she asked him.

“Well, the tour starts a couple of days after New Years’ and goes to mid-February. Filming for _Neverland_ starts on January 31st, so I’ll just be suffering from serious jet lag for two weeks in February.” He quirked a brow at her. “I mean, I just won the show. Ticket sales will suffer if I don’t go, right?”

Emma tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s all it is? What’s best for the show?”

He didn’t shy away from her gaze. “You know it’s more than that, Emma.”

She shook her head. “It won’t change anything. _Neverland_ ends, then you’re expected in London.”

“We could make it work,” he replied softly. He reached out with one hand to fiddle with the end of her braid.

She stepped back. “With an entire country and an ocean between us? It’ll only end in heartbreak.”

He nodded, his shoulders slumping. “Then I’ll cherish those six weeks all the more.” Then he slipped silently past her, pausing when he got to the door. “My flight for London leaves tonight, remember?”

“I know.”

Emma turned away as he closed the door. She collapsed onto the sofa behind her after he left, her emotions leaving her slightly dazed. She rubbed her forehead wearily as she tried to process what he had just told her. They had six more weeks together. Dancing together almost every night, sharing tight quarters on a tour bus. She thought of the men she sometimes took back to her hotel room in some of the cities they stopped in.  And now Killian Jones might be across the hall. She thought of the sexual tension always buzzing between them and began to massage her neck as her throat tightened. The whole thing was a bad idea in every possible way.

She jumped as another knock sounded at her door. She marched angrily across the trailer and yanked it open. “Killian, I’ve said all I need to-“ she stopped abruptly when she saw the woman standing there. “Oh . . . Mom! I thought you were someone else.”

Ingrid chuckled. “Obviously.”

Blushing, Emma waved her in, accepting her offered hug.

“Oh, honey,” Ingrid said, squeezing her tight, “I am so proud of you! You saw me in the audience, right?”

“Of course I did,” Emma replied, grinning as she pulled away from her embrace.

“Anna wanted to come, too, but with everyone heading out to the ski lodge this week, she was nervous about leaving Kristoff alone with the boys. Hosting Thanksgiving this year has her a little frazzled, truth be told.” Ingrid settled to the sofa as she spoke, pulling Emma down with her.

“I understand,” Emma said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “We’ll all see her in a couple of days anyway.”

“So,” Ingrid said, squeezing her hand, “what was that outburst just now directed at your handsome partner?”

Emma rose from her seat, turning her head to hide her blush. “Oh, nothing. He’s just decided to do the tour, that’s all. He was excited to tell me I guess.”

She bit her lip as she pretended to busy herself tossing makeup and face creams into her cosmetic bag. She heard Ingrid make a suspicious humming sound, but she said nothing more about Killian and instead changed the subject.

“I’m also here to talk with you in a professional capacity.”

Emma turned to her mother with brows arched in surprise. “Professional capacity?”

Ingrid patted the sofa next to her. “You really need to find someone else to manage your career, sweetheart. David and Elsa have.”

Emma shook her head as she sat back down next to the woman who had changed her life. For the better. “No way. You help with more than contracts and auditions. You move to LA for six weeks every winter to stay with Henry while I go on tour. Then you entertain him in Colorado every summer for another six weeks. What would I do without you?”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Ingrid told her softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, “that’s called being a mother and a grandmother. I would do those things even if you got a different agent. Surely you know that?”

Emma softened at her tenderness, sagging against the back of the sofa. “I know. I guess I could start looking for an agent here in LA.”

“Especially if you plan on having a movie career,” Ingrid said with an eager grin.

Emma tilted her head in confusion. “A movie career?”

“That’s the exciting news!” Ingrid squeezed her hands. “A movie producer has been watching you dance this season. He liked what he saw so much, he looked into your time on Broadway. He wants you for the lead in a movie musical he’s producing. They’d like you to fly out to London as soon as you can to talk it over with them. I asked if there would be a screen test with the male lead, but he seemed to find that funny for some reason. They won’t tell me who the actor is, something about confidentiality.”

Suddenly, the room felt like it was spinning, and the blood pounded in Emma’s head. “I know who he is.”

“What, honey?”

Emma surged up from the sofa, her fists clenched tightly. “It’s Killian. The actor in the musical. It’s Killian.”

Ingrid’s face creased with concern at her reaction. “Is that a problem?” she asked as she rose to stand. She reached for Emma’s hands, but Emma turned away.

“I – I have to go.” Emma snatched her bag and keys and left, slamming her trailer door behind her.

**********************************************************

Even though Emma knew where Killian lived, she had never gone to his house until now. It wasn’t what she had been expecting. It was a modest sized two story stucco on a steep street up in the hills. Though there was a gate, the house wasn’t all that far from the road. It was a nice house in a pretty neighborhood, but it wasn’t ostentatious. She would never have guessed that it belonged to a celebrity.

The gate stood open because a team of landscapers were trimming the hedges along the drive. Emma pulled up and saw Killian’s garage open. Then Killian came outside laden down with bags for his trip to London. When he saw her, he instantly dropped them, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Emma?” he asked tentatively as she got out of the car.

She slammed the door shut and marched angrily across the concrete drive. When she reached him, she didn’t hesitate. She lifted her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. His face whipped to the side with the impact, and he blinked in shock.

“What the bloody hell?”

“How dare you?” Emma seethed. “What do you think gives you the right to meddle in my life that way?”

Killian’s eyes darted over her shoulder, and he put a trembling hand out and put it over her shoulder. Emma tried to shrug him off, but he stubbornly steered her towards the door.

“Let’s take this away from prying eyes, shall we?” he said calmly. He hit the button to close the garage door as he led her inside.

The room he led her into was an immaculately clean kitchen, worthy of a chef, but in her blind anger, Emma barely paused to appreciate it. Instead she slapped her palm down on the marble-topped island, shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

“Away from prying eyes, huh? Don’t want to risk the precious reputation you used _me_ to build.”

Killian lifted both hands in a hesitant gesture. “I’m thinking of your reputation too, Swan. Now, care to explain what I did to earn your ire?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t act as if you don’t know! And all this time I believed your lines about not wanting to pressure me for more than I was ready to give. But that’s all they were – lines delivered by a pretty actor.”

Killian physically recoiled from her words. “Where is this coming from? You were fine when I left the lot.”

Emma marched right into his personal space, poking her finger into his chest. “What was your plan, huh? Manipulate my life so that I’m forced to be around you, and then what? You assumed I’d eventually just fall into bed with you?”

Killian’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t think of it that way.” He lifted tortured eyes to hers. “I swear to you Emma, all I could think of was spending just six more weeks in your presence. But I see now how it looks from your point of view. I’ll talk to Regina. If it makes you uncomfortable to have me on the tour, I won’t do it.”

It was Emma’s turn to blink. She shook her head, his words not computing. “I’m not talking about the tour. I’m talking about the movie!”

“What movie?”

In that moment, Emma could hear every tiny noise in the kitchen: the hum of the refrigerator, the air conditioner kicking on. And Killian’s confused and dumbfounded expression stood out in high definition. Yes, he was an actor, but in that moment, Emma realized something with startling clarity. She could read him. She knew his every expression, every tell, every nervous tick. Over all these months of dancing together, she knew him in a way she had never known anyone else.

“You didn’t know?” she whispered.

“Know what?” he said it on an exasperated sigh. He didn’t know. She choked out a sound between a laugh and a cry. “Swan?” he asked, voice edged with a hint of concern.

She lunged at him then, grasping his face in her hands and covering his mouth with hers. She backed him up against the cabinet behind him, her arms wrapping around him and her hands clutching at the fabric of the back of his shirt. He kissed her back, and their kisses were the frantic, devouring kind. He spun her around and grabbed the top of her thighs, hoisting her up on the kitchen island. His hands were roaming too, cupping her breasts and sliding up the inside of her thighs, hitching her dress up past her hips. His lips trailed across her jaw and down her neck.

“This marble,” Emma panted, “isn’t very comfortable.”

He hoisted her up again and carried her easily across the room. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, fusing her lips to his again. She let out a yelp followed by a giggle when he deposited her on a sofa, her legs almost flying up in the air. He dove after her, swallowing her laughter with more kisses.

“What about your flight?” she gasped.

“There will be others,” he muttered against her collarbone, clearly not caring in the least.

“What . . . about . . . Liam?” she asked between kisses.

“Out somewhere with Belle. Who cares?”

“What if,” Emma started to ask, then was momentarily distracted by more deep kisses, “they walk in on this?”

Killian pulled back, looking adorably wrecked with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and hair mussed. He grinned down at her, then scooped her up without warning bridal style. Emma squealed as she braced her arms around his neck.

“That can be remedied,” he told her, then carried her up a nearby staircase.

The time it took for him to carry her upstairs and to his bedroom gave them both time to calm down from the frenzy they had just been consumed with. Killian had intensity in his eyes as he lowered her to his bed. He stroked her face tenderly as he lay down beside her.

“Emma,” he asked her gently, “what are we doing?”

She reached up and ran her hand along his jaw, relishing the feel of his scruff beneath her palm. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He bent and brushed his nose with hers. “I don’t want this to just be sex and then have you tell me afterwards that it’s a one time thing.” He took a deep breath and released it before he spoke again. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

She ran her thumb across his lips, “I know,” she whispered back. She had known it for a while, she realized. But she knew something else too. “And I love you.”

His face filled up with a radiant smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He kissed her again, but this time it was slow and tender; passionate but unhurried. His hands were the same, caressing her body with something close to reverence. She arched into his touch as his hand slid up her inner thigh and his lips made a slow, languid path down to the dip between her breasts.

Emma had never really thought about it before, but she had very little experience with foreplay. It was more intimate than she was comfortable with for a one night stand. As for Neal, well, her sexual encounters with him had always been about his desires and wants, not hers. Now, as Killian slowly undressed her and explored her body like someone seeking a precious treasure, she was almost overwhelmed by the assault on her senses and emotions. He had her writhing as he kissed a path down the length of her body, pausing teasingly just below her belly button.

“Killian,” she whimpered, digging her fingers into his hair.

He didn’t make her beg, but continued his path, and when he caused her to come the first time, it was almost frightening in its intensity. He did have her begging then, yanking on his hair. He practically smirked as he hovered over her, but his expression turned to surprise when Emma pushed and rolled him onto his back without warning. Straddling him, she pinned his arms over his head.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this for over two weeks now,” she told him with a smirk of her own.

He grinned up at her salaciously. “Aye, love, me too.”

******************************************************

Emma lay drowsily against Killian’s chest, absentmindedly running her fingers through his chest hair. His fingers played idly with her hair. She turned and buried her face into his chest, taking a deep breath of his scent. She wasn’t sure when it had become such a comforting aroma. His arms tightened around her and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“What are you thinking?” he whispered.

She craned her neck up to look at him and smiled. “Just that I’m happy.”

He grinned back as he arched a brow at her. “Are you sure about that? Since you slapped me when you first got here, I’m assuming this isn’t how you thought this would go.”

Emma laughed, then groaned as she buried her face in his chest again. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up towards his again. “Now, what’s this movie you were talking about?”

Emma bit her lower lip as it suddenly occurred to her that maybe they should have discussed all of this before falling into bed. What if he didn’t want her tagging along to London? What if it was too much too soon for him?

“Believe it or not . . . it’s the same movie you’re doing.”

A huge grin split his face, making him look like a big kid. “Really?”

Emma nodded and sat up, bunching the bedsheet at her chest. “The female lead, actually?”

She studied his face nervously, but she shouldn’t have worried. Instead of saying anything, he grabbed her and kissed her.

“This is fantastic, Emma! It’s . . . perfect! I told you everything would work out.”

Emma shook her head. “Slow down, okay? They may change their mind about casting me once they meet me.”

He shook his head vehemently. “No way, Swan, they’ll love you.”

Emma turned her face away, nervously tracing the trim on the edge of the sheet. “What if it’s more than I can handle? What if I just can’t do it?”

Killian shifted close, brushing her hair from her bare shoulder and pressing a kiss there. When he spoke, it was against her skin, “Nonsense, Swan. I have yet to see you fail.”

She turned her face to gaze into his, overwhelmed at the utter faith he had in her. She let the sheet fall from her grasp and hauled him in for a passionate kiss, pulling him down onto the bed on top of her.

“When I change my ticket,” he told her in between kisses, “I’m thinking I’ll get three.”

Emma paused. “Three?”

“You,” Killian explained, kissing her nose, “me,” he added, kissing her cheek, “and Henry.”

Emma laughed against his lips as they drifted over hers. “You’re forgetting one thing, Brit. There’s this little American holiday on Thursday called Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, right,” he said with a frown, “the turkey day thing where you watch that atrocity called American football.”

“Hey,” Emma said with mock defensiveness, “I have you know I’m a huge Patriots fan.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You are?”

Emma laughed, “No, I’m kidding.” She fiddled with his hair and studied him as nervous butterflies skittered around in her stomach. “You could change your flight to Colorado instead. Come with us for our Swan family Thanksgiving at Anna and Kristoff’s place. I mean, I know it’s asking a lot. You’d have to change your meetings and all –“

“I accept.”

Emma blinked. “You’re sure?”

He smiled teasingly. “I’m a Brit, remember? It’s not as if I’ve got plans that day. And as for meeting with the producers, well, I’ll just explain that I want to wait for my leading lady to join me.”

Her own smile threatened to split her face now as she pulled him in for another kiss. Afterwards, she pressed her forehead to his. “This seems to be getting into serious territory kind of fast, though, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he admitted, rolling to his side to face her. He reached out to trace the apple of her cheek with his fingertips. “But it feels right, too, don’t you think?”

Emma scooted closer to fit herself into that spot beneath his chin, pressed against his chest, that spot that felt made just for her. “It does feel right. Like all my broken pieces fit perfectly into yours.”

**************************************************

The paparazzi didn’t get a photo of Emma slapping Killian in his garage or any photos of her leaving the next morning in the same clothes she had been wearing the night before. They did, however, get a photo of them two weeks later at LAX, holding hands and laughing with Henry at their side. That was a photo they didn’t mind going public in the least. Nor did they mind the caption that read, “Killian Jones Looking Very Domestic With His Former Dance Partner.” They both planned on making it true one day.


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we really here at the end? It’s definitely bittersweet to say goodbye to this fic and to the captainswanbigbang. It’s hard to believe that this time a year ago I was just setting up my tumblr page and had zero followers. Now, I have made so many new friends, and a big part of that was doing this event. Thank you to everyone: mods, fellow writers, artists, and betas. Our chats on discord and all the sprints helped me finally write the thing. I had this idea for so long, but I wasn’t sure how many people would even care about a Dancing With the Stars AU. The response has been overwhelming, so thank you everyone for your comments, kudos, and reblogs. I especially thank my beta distant_rose, my temporary beta hellotragic, and my hard working artist optomisticgirl. Being able to call all three of you my friends because of this event is even greater than the hard work you put in. Thank you!
> 
> And now, for that short, fluffy epilogue . . .

**Ten Months Later**

There was a crash and a muttered “bloody hell” from the kitchen behind her, and Emma half rose from her place on the living room couch. “Are you sure you two don’t need my help?”

“No, Mom!” Henry answered. Was that panic in his voice? “I mean, um . . . of course not.”

Killian chuckled, and the sound of it made Emma relax. “Sorry, love, just dropped the bowl of popcorn. We’ll just pop another.”

“You two really don’t need to do this,” she argued. “I’m fine not being there, really.”

“But it’s also a celebration,” Killian argued, coming around the kitchen island to lean over the couch, “one year ago, we were on the show. Little did I know how much it would change my life.”

She accepted the kiss he gave her with a smile.

“Hey!” Henry admonished. “Remember my rule about the kissing?”

“Never agreed to that rule, kid,” Emma laughed.

“Yeah, well,” Henry told her, “Killian’s gotta help me with this tray.”

“Be right back,” Killian told her with a wink, “get the show queued up, okay?”

Emma searched for the Roku remote on the coffee table, groaning when she looked across the room to find it neatly lined up with the other remotes on a shelf of the built-ins. Killian never seemed to understand why she and Henry got so frustrated with this neat habit of his, no matter how many times they tried to explain that storing the remotes right next to the TV defeated the whole purpose. She got up and walked over to retrieve it, her eyes lingering on the top shelf where the  _ Dancing with the Stars  _ mirror ball trophy sparkled in the light shining through the window. Right next to it sat the Emmy she had won for her choreography to  _ Heart Shaped Box _ . Emma had argued with Killian about it when the three of them moved into their London flat. It was the first thing he unpacked, and he insisted that this was where it should go. Not only that, he had already pointed it out to every person who walked through the front door, even the guy who delivered their Chinese order a few nights ago. She pretended to be embarrassed, but his pride in her accomplishments honestly took her breath away. He had never even been nominated for an Emmy, and yet he displayed not a shred of insecurity or bitterness for hers, only wholehearted support.

They had made the move to London at the beginning of the summer so Henry could adjust to living in a new country before school started. The movie shoot would be a long one, not wrapping until February, if things stayed on schedule. It would make no sense to pull Henry out of school at that point, so they signed a year’s lease on the flat and threw themselves into making London their new home.

Rehearsals for the movie had started last week, and Emma was glad to have Killian at her side. At the first read-through of the script, she had shaken with nerves.  She had worried that the rest of the cast wouldn’t accept her; that they would think she had won her role just because of her relationship with its star. But it turned out that the producers had intentionally gone with a largely unknown cast, except for Killian, and the feeling amongst everyone was largely one of excitement instead of ego and competition.

Emma loved the script, too. She played a naïve girl from a Midwestern town who moves to London to follow the punk band she idolizes. Killian played the equally naïve young man from the English countryside trying to make it as a musician, pining for Emma’s character while she chases her self-absorbed rock idol. It was a completely different role from Captain Hook, and she couldn’t be happier for him.

The theme for  _ Dancing With the Stars  _ was playing on the TV when Killian and Henry came in, the latter carrying a tray laden with popcorn, sodas, and boxes of movie theater candy. Henry set the tray down, and Killian pulled his hand from behind his back with a flourish to produce a bouquet of buttercups and forget-me-nots and presented them to her.

“M’lady,” he told her with a wink.

Emma accepted the bouquet, frowning in concern when his hand shook slightly as she took them. “Are you okay?”

“Of course? Why wouldn’t I be?”

He sat down next to her on the couch, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She didn’t press him despite the telltale scratching behind his ear. Henry plopped down on the floor by the coffee table, but kept glancing back at the two of them. On the TV, the couples had all been introduced, and the judges were being brought out.

“Is it weird to see your brother as a judge?” Killian asked, reaching over for some popcorn.

“A little, but I think he’s going to do a great job,” Emma answered, snatching some popcorn out of Killian’s palm. “Hey, kid, hand me that bowl and the Milk Duds.”

Henry’s eyes grew wide and caught Killian’s as he handed her the bowl. Then he lifted the box of Milk Duds slowly and carefully. Emma narrowed her eyes as her gaze toggled between the two of them.

“What is up with you two  . . . “ she trailed off as she accepted the candy. “This is already open! Is there even candy in here?”

She opened the box and peered inside. Something sparkled. Her mouth fell open as she looked first at Killian and then at Henry. Slowly, she tilted the box and shook the contents into her open palm. Instead of Milk Duds, the box contained nothing but a simple, elegant, princess cut diamond ring. Speechless, she looked up to meet Killian’s eyes, which shone with emotion.

“Emma,” he said softly, “I love you. This past year has been the best one of my life. Dancing with you, now making this movie with you, it’s shown me one thing with startling clarity. No matter what comes in our lives, I wish to always, always be by your side.”

Emma blinked and swallowed, but she couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in her eyes. He took the ring gently from her hand. “Emma Swan, would you marry me?”

She nodded, the tears spilling over and making tracks down her cheeks. “Yes!”

Killian slid the ring on her finger, and Emma admired the way it caught the light. Then she surged forward, grasping his face in her hands and kissing him tenderly. Fittingly, the  _ Dancing with the Stars  _ theme music played from the TV as they kissed. When she first met this man, Emma thought he was her exact opposite in every way. Now she couldn’t think of anyone who understood her better, anyone who so naturally complemented her. She had finally found the perfect partner.


End file.
